. 


The  Adventures  of 

THEODORE 


IT  TOOK  FOUR  MULES 
TO  DRAG  THE  BEAR.       P»ge  109 


The  Adventures  of 

THEODORE 


A  HUMOROUS 
KXT  RAVAGANZ  A 
at  related  by 
JIM  HIGGERS 

to     on*     of 

The    RougH   Writers 

ILLUSTRATIONS 
fry  HENRICH 


H.  J.  SmitK  <Kl  Devereaux  Co 

I         Publish  •«••       ^      *       CHICAGO        I 


THE 

ADVENTURES 

OF 

THEODORE. 


Copyright  1901 
By  The  H.  J.  Smith  &  Devereaux  Co. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER 

I    Making  Acquaintances       ...  ,7 

II    A  Tip  on  the  Hold-up  Trust     .        .  20 

III  The  Woman  with  the  Hatchet  .        .  39 

IV  Capturing  a  Preacher         ...  50 
V    The  Rough  Writers    ....  61 

VI    Five  Lions  at  One  Shot     ...  74 

VII    An  Ancient  Cave  Dweller         .  93 

VIII    An  Old  Maids  Convention        .        .  103 

IX    Kidnapped          ...                .  117 

X    Held  for  Ransom       ....  139 

XI    Riding  the  Bear         ....  162 

XII    Lost  Again 176 

XIII  Like  a  Fairy  Tale       .        .        .        .  194' 

XIV  The  Battle  Royal        .        .        .        •  202 


LIST  OF 
ILLUSTRATIONS 


It  took  four  mules  to  drag  the  bear  .   Frontispiece 

PAGE 
Please  accept  him  with  my  compliments       .        17 

Shook  the  exact  change  out  of  their  pockets  28 

You  fail  to  wait  for  me  if  you  dare        .        .  46 

With  hi»  back  to  the  fire  warming  himself    .  70 

A  large  lion  leaped  directly  at  us  .        .        .  118 
Pulled  hard  on  Sir  Billy's  ears       .        .        .171 

Nothing  of  note  happened  during  the  night  181 

He  let  the  bear  grab  him       ....  206 


I    THEODORE 

CHAPTER    I 
MAKING    ACQUAINTANCES 

1WAS  detailed  to  go  with  Theodore 
in  his  hunt  for  adventure.  The  Super- 
intendent   of    the    agency    couldn't 
exactly  tell    me  what    my  duties    were, 
except  that   I   was  to   go   along,  make 
close    observations,    and    to    submit    a 
report  upon  my  return,  doubtless    for 
the    guidance     of     future     Vice-Presi- 
dents.      My    acquaintance    with  Theo- 
dore   was    limited,    but    encouraging, 
7 


THEODORE 

for  once  at  a  political  meeting  I 
had  received  full  in  the  face  a  hand- 
ful of  mud  intended  for  him.  It  seems 
that  he  remembered  this  considerateness 
on  my  part,  and  that  it  was  at  his  own  re- 
quest that  I  had  received  the  appoint- 
ment to  go  with  him.  And  now  I  submit 
my  report,  which  must  make  up  in  truth 
for  what  it  frequently  lacks  in  incident. 
It  must  by  this  time  be  pretty  well  known 
throughout  the  country  that  Theodore 
is  a  man  of  the  most  peculiar  sort  of 
humor,  or,  I  might  say,  humors,  at  times 
as  grim  as  a  grizzly,  and  then  as  playful 
as  a  kitten — sometimes  the  very  statue  of 
dignity,  and  then  the  harlequin  of  laugh- 
able trickery.  In  all  these  moods  he  has 
challenged  my  respect,  and  particularly 
so  under  strain,  when  no  one  could  fore- 
see how  the  prize  fight  would  go, 
whether  it  would  be  won  by  the  favor- 
ite or  the  comparatively  new  man.  On 
8 


THEODORE 

such  occasions  I  have  seen  him  smile  as 
calmly  as  if  the  result  meant  no  more 
than  the  outcome  of  an  ordinary  Presi- 
dential election,  and  this,  we  must  all 
agree,  is  the  test  of  true  greatness. 

Equipped  with  a  repeating  rifle,  and 
as  much  lead  as  I  could  carry,  I  joined 
Theodore  at  a  little  tavern  in  Michigan. 
It  was  not  necessary  to  send  up  a  card, 
and  I  went  forthwith  up  the  stairs,  hav- 
ing been  told  by  the  landlord  to  listen  in 
order  to  locate  the  great  man's  quarters, 
as  the  rooms  were  not  numbered;  and 
about  the  time  I  reached  the  head  of  the 
stairs  I  heard  a  violent  thump  and  felt 
the  house  shaking.  Then  there  followed 
furious  scuffling  and  a  tremendous  jar. 
These  manifestations  of  identity  led  me 
down  to  the  end  of  the  hall,  where  I 
rapped  on  a  door,  and,  after  a  short 
silence  within,  during  which  I  heard 
hard  breathing,  I  was  told  to  come  in. 
9 


I  did  so,  and  there  stood  Theodore  and 
a  man  of  great  size  and  muscular  build, 
both  panting.  After  a  quick  shaking  of 
hands  Theodore  said:  "Glad  to  see  you. 
But  just  excuse  me  for  a  few  moments, 
please.  No,  you  needn't  leave  the  room. 
And,  in  the  meantime,  shake  hands  with 
Lip  Buck.  He  has  come  down  from  a 
logging  camp  to  give  me  a  few  falls,  and 
has  just  been  accommodating  me." 

Lip  Buck  gave  a  sickly  grin,  and, 
looking  at  him  closer,  I  saw  that  one  of 
his  ears  was  much  dilapidated,  and  his 
nose  quite  out  of  the  straight.  Theo- 
dore braced  himself,  and  Buck  made 
ready.  I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  wrest- 
ling in  my  time,  but  as  a  general  thing 
it  has  been  slow,  a  strain  on  both  sides, 
with  little  action;  but  now  I  was  to  see 
something  as  full  of  pictures  as  a  dance 
in  a  vitascope.  The  logger  was  one  of 
the  finest  specimens  of  manhood  I  ever 

10 


THEODORE 

saw,  and  he  was  surprisingly  active,  his 
enormous  bulk  in  no  wise  hampering 
him.  He  was  trained  to  a  fine  degree, 
and  I  found  out  not  long  afterward  that 
he  was  the  terror  of  all  the  camps.  But 
these  accomplishments  and  this  prestige 
availed  him  nothing.  I  couldn't  see  how 
it  was  done,  it  was  so  sudden,  but  Theo- 
dore pivoted  him  on  his  hip,  spun  him 
around  with  an  upward  tendency  and 
jumped  from  under  him.  Lip  turned  in 
mid  air  for  a  violent  whirl  or  two,  and 
then  shot  to  the  right,  then  to  the  left, 
and  then  came  down  upon  his  right 
shoulder,  his  legs  tangling  even  after  he 
had  struck.  After  a  time  he  was  all 
down  on  the  floor,  where  he  lay  with- 
out motion. 

"Theodore,"  said  I,  in  some  alarm, 
"I'm  afraid  you  have  killed  him." 

A  bright  smile  lighted  the  great  man's 
face.  "Let  us  hope  not,"  he  replied, 
ii 


THEODORE 

"Let  us  hope  not,  for  the  country  can't 
afford  to  lose  good  men,  and  Lip  is  a 
leader.  See,  he  is  coming  round." 

Lip  got  up,  and  in  a  dazed  way  began 
to  look  around  for  his  hat.  He  found  it, 
put  it  on,  and  said:  "Well,  guess  I'll  be 
goinV 

"Don't  be  in  a  hurry,"  says  Theodore. 
"You've  got  all  day  before  you." 

"Yes,  I  know,  but  I  got  to  see  a  doc- 
tor, I  guess." 

"Oh,  in  that  case  don't  let  me  detain 
you.  By  the  way,  if  you  can  wait  till 
you  get  there,  call  on  Dr.  Mix,  five  miles 
out.  He  is  an  accommodating  man,  and 
helped  me  out  not  long  ago  when  I  felt 
lonesome  and  low-spirited.  Although 
not  much  of  a  boxer,  he  stood  up  before 
me  for  two  rounds,  just  to  please.  I 
told  him  I  wouldn't  forget  his  kindness, 
and  I'd  like  to  throw  trade  his  way.  But 
if  you  can't  wait,  you  can't,  so  that's  all 

12 


THEODORE 

ithere  is  to  it.  But  hold  on  a  moment, 
Lip.  I  want  to  thank  you  for  your  sup- 
port. I—" 

"That's  all  right.  I  couldn't  vote  agin 
you." 

"Oh,  I  don't  mean  that  sort  of  sup- 
port. Voting  is  all  well  enough,  but  I 
mean  for  your  support  on  this  occasion 
— coming  here  and  cheering  me  when 
you  must  have  known  that  I  was  de- 
pressed. Well,  good-bye." 

When  the  logger  was  gone  Theodore 
smiled  upon  me,  and  I  asked  him,  with 
some  uneasiness,  if  I  were  expected  to 
take  Lip's  place.  "Oh,  no,"  he  replied, 
encouragingly.  "You  are  simply  to  go 
along  in  the  capacity  of  detective." 

"But  not  to  ward  off  danger,  for  that 
is  what  you  are  looking  for,"  said  I.  "It 
must  be  for  something  else." 

Theodore  smiled  again,  and  said:  "In 
all  avocations  a  man  is  placed  at  a  de- 
13 


THEODORE 

cided  advantage  if  he  be  accompanied 
by  a  trained  mind' — I  don't  mean  the 
mind  that  has  been  brushed  and  dusted 
by  books,  but  the  mind  sharpened  by 
observation;  in  short,  I  thought  that  pos- 
sibly you  might,  in  your  trained  shrewd- 
ness, discover  new  combative  pleasures, 
new  tests  and  sensations  for  the  spirit 
of  adventure.  The  fact  is,  this  tour 
of  adventure  is  to  be  a  profound  se- 
cret  " 

"And  you  want  me  to  keep  the  re- 
porters off.  Is  that  it?" 

The  dark  shadow  of  disappointment 
fell  upon  his  face.  "I  see  that  you  don't 
understand  your  business,"  said  he. 
"This  is  a  secret,  of  course,  but  I  want 
you  to  see  that  the  reporters  do  get  on 
to  it — without  my  knowledge.  That  is 
one  feature  of  your  duties.  But  the  main 
one  is  that,  instead  of  keeping  me  out 
of  danger,  you  must  stealthily  run  me 
into  it."  14 


THEODORE 

"I  understand." 

'Thank  you.  I  beein  to  take  hope. 
Let  us  go  out  for  a  walk." 

We  walked  out  from  the  hotel.  When 
some  distance  away,  and  after  a  long 
silence,  Theodore  said:  "I  have  many 
pleasant  memories  of  the  campaign.  It 
was  a  glorious  epoch  in  our  history.  But, 
do  you  know,  I  have  been  sad  since  it 
was  over?  There  was  so  much  of  life 

about  it." 

"I  can  well  believe  you  must  be,  and 
I  am  here  to  do  my  best  to  help  you 
out." 

"Good.  But  would  you  mind  step- 
ping off  there  about  ten  feet  and  shying 
a  stone  at  me  by  way  of  reminiscence?" 

I  stepped  off,  grabbled  about,  found 
a  ten-ounce  bowlder  and  threw  it  at  him. 
He  ducked  in  a  dignified  way,  and  said, 
"Thanks."  The  village  was  unusually 
quiet,  considering  who  was  in  town,  and 
15 


THEODORE 

I  said  something  about  it,  when  all  of  a 
sudden  there  was  a  loud  cry  of  "Mad 
dog!"  The  few  villagers  in  the  street 
took  to  their  heels,  and  I  was  about  to 
scamper,  for  I  am  never  at  ease  when  a 
mad  dog  is  near,  but  Theodore  quietly 
remarked:  ''Don't  be  in  a  hurry.  The 
dog  evidently  doesn't  know  that  I  am 
here." 

"And  he  ain't  likely  to  care,  even  if  he 
should  know,"  I  replied,  feeling  a  chill 
creep  up  my  back;  and  a  moment  later 
I  believe  that  I  should  have  run  like  a 
deer,  for  here  came  the  mad  dog  with 
his  tongue  hanging  out  like  a  strip  of 
red  flannel;  but  Theodore  touched  me 
and  all  fear  was  gone  in  an  instant.  Still, 
I  took  the  precaution  to  step  behind 
Theodore.  The  dog  made  a  lunge, 
and,  in  a  dignified  manner,  full  of 
self-respect  and  reserved  strength, 
Theodore  caught  him  about  the  neck 
16 


PLEASE  ACCEPT  HIM  WITH 

MY  COMPLIMENTS."       Page  17 


THEODORE 

with  both  hands,  and,  without  the 
apparent  strain  of  a  muscle,  choked 
him  till  his  tongue  lolled  limp,  then 
bowed  to  the  Mayor,  held  forth  the 
lifeless  brute,  and  said:  "Please  accept 
him,  with  my  compliments." 

It  struck  me  that  our  adventures  were 
beginning  ahead  of  time,  but  Theodore 
said  we  might  expect  them  at  any  mo- 
ment. "Some  men  are  born  lucky  and 
some  are  born  adventurous,"  said  he, 
with  a  modest  smile  that  I  shall  never 
forget. 

Upon  returning  to  the  hotel  we  found 
the  place  in  a  stir  and  a  fright  over 
the  carryings  on  of  the  cook,  an  enor- 
mous negro,  who  had  come  to  the 
World's  Fair  as  an  East  Indian  lizard 
eater.  Though  of  a  gentle  disposition, 
it  seems  that  he  had  suddenly  gone  daft 
— at  all  events,  he  held  a  carving  knife 
in  his  hand,  had  a  Swede  girl  penned  up 
17 


THEODORE 

in  a  corner,  and  was  threatening  her  life. 
The  terrified  boarders  were  shrinking 
about,  not  knowing  what  moment  he 
would  turn  upon  them.  "Bug  house," 
said  Teddy,  pushing  his  way  to  the  front. 
"Here,  fellow,  drop  that  knife." 

"Kiougi  kang  ki  ki!"  exclaimed  the 
madman,  making  a  swipe  at  Ted.  The 
landlady  shrieked,  and  the  local  minister, 
who  had  dropped  in  to  take  dinner,  be- 
gan to  mutter  something  that  sounded 
like  a  prayer. 

"Kuc  mick  ju  ju!"  exclaimed  the  liz- 
ard eater,  preparing  for  another  swipe. 

"Oh!"  cried  the  landlady.  "Such  lan- 
guage and  in  my  house.  Brother  Peters, 
who  would  have  thought  that  I  should 
have  lived  to  hear  this?" 

All  this  time  Ted  stood  with  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  lunatic,  who,  I  noticed, 
had  begun  to  tremble  and  to  weaken. 

"Drop  that  knife!" 
18 


THEODORE 

"Hick,  gi,  gi!" 

"Mercy!"  groaned  the  landlord's  wife. 

Ted  quietly  looked  at  his  watch.  "I 
am  not  in  the  habit  of  encountering 
crazy  men,"  said  he,  "but  unless  you  re- 
cover your  reason  and  hand  me  that 
knife  within  two  minutes  I  will  stuff  your 
carcass  with  wheat  straw  and  present  it 
to  the  hook  and  ladder  company." 

There  was  a  gleam  of  reason  in  the 
eye  of  the  lizard  eater.  His  knees  shook, 
but,  with  a  grace  that  surprised  us  all, 
he  bowed,  handed  the  knife  to  Ted,  and, 
in  the  softest  tones,  remarked  to  the 
landlady:  "Shall  I  have  chicken  or  a 
roast  for  dinner?" 


CHAPTER    II 
A    TIP    ON    THE    HOLDUP    TRUST 

THE  next  day  we  put  our  traps  on 
the  train,  and  had  seated  ourselves 
when  in  came  Siler,  the  great  ref- 
eree.    Ted  grasped  him    by  the    hand, 
with  more  feeling  than  I  had  ever  seen 
him  show,  and  cried  out:    "Siler,  I  am 
delighted  to  see  you.     Where  are  you 
going?" 

"Oh,  I  heard  you  were  here,  and  I  just 
thought  I'd  have  a  chat  with  you.  Wrest- 
lin'  much  now,  Ted?" 

"Not  much,   Siler.    I   have  had   only 
a  few  falls  lately,  Siler." 
20 


THEODORE 

"You  are  a  great  man,  Ted.  There 
ain't  none  like  you." 

"Thank  you,  Siler." 

"And,  by  the  way,  Ted,  I  hear  that 
you  have  dropped  into  another  line  of 
sport." 

"What's  that,  Siler?" 

"Why,  I  hear  you've  turned  book- 
maker." 

"No;  that's  a  mistake,  Siler.  I  have 
never  done  anything  of  that  sort.  Who 
told  you?" 

"I  heard  it  from  some  of  the  boys. 
And  they  said  you  was  particularly 
backin'  a  horse  named  Crampwell,  or 
somethin'  of  the  sort." 

Then  Ted  laughed.  "Oh,  I  under- 
stand," said  he.  "I  wrote  a  book — the 
life  of  Cromwell." 

"Wrote  a  book!  How  did  you  find 
time?  But  I  guess  a  man  has  to  idle  and 
loaf  once  in  a  while  to  keep  himself  in 

21 


THEODORE 

trim.  It's  that  way  with  me.  So  I 
guess  you  got  it  up  while  you  was  restin'. 
But  where  are  you  goin'  now?" 

"Out  West  to  look  for  sport." 

"I  didn't  think  anythin'  was  goin'  on 
out  there.  Hadn't  heard  of  a  thing.  Who 
arranged  it?  Is  it  a  wrestle  or  a  fight?" 

"Oh,  I  am  going  out  to  kill  things — 
lions  and  such." 

"I  don't  want  to  offer  advice,  Ted,  but 
if  I  was  you  I  would  quit  cruelty  and 
stick  to  the  legitimate.  I  like  a  good 
fight  as  well  as  the  next  man,  but  I  don't 
want  to  see  anythin'  hurt.  What  are  you 
goin'  to  kill  lions  for?  Are  they  doin' 
any  particular  harm?  Why  don't  you 
kill  welshers?  Them  lions  don't  hurt 
nobody." 

"You  don't  understand,  Siler.  But 
you  aren't  an  educated  man,  and  it  is  not 
expected  that  you  should  understand." 

"I  ain't  a  statesman,  that's  a  fact.    But 

22 


THEODORE 

do  all  great  statesmen  go  about  to  kill 
things?" 

"Yes,  the  really  great  ones." 

"Did  Lincoln  kill  things?" 

"Well,  Lincoln  was  different.  In  his 
day  there  were  important  matters  be- 
fore the  public — something  to  engage 
his  mind;  but  now  there  is  practically 
nothing  to  circulate  a  man's  blood." 

"Why  didn't  you  go  to  the  Philip- 
pines, if  you  must  shoot?" 

"Well,  there  are  several  reasons — one 
is  that  I  want  sure  game.  I  used  to  be 
a  pretty  fair  sprinter,  but  the  Filipinos 
are  too  swift  for  me." 

I  was  glad  when  Siler  left  us,  for  there 
is  nothing  I  dislike  more  than  an  argu- 
ment. He  is  a  good  fellow,  and  all  that, 
but  he  has  been  so  long  identified  with 
the  prize  ring  that  he,  as  Ted  well  re- 
marked, does  not  understand  the  real 
affairs  of  life.  It  seems  that  as  the  world 
23 


THEODORE 

grows  older  man  stands  more  and  more 
in  need  of  higher  education.  Even  the 
detectives  have  begun  to  understand 
this,  and  particularly  so  the  boys  who 
read  detective  stories,  for  otherwise  how 
could  they  write  their  experiences  when 
abducted?  One  abducted  boy  that  can 
write  like  the  author  of  a  detective  story 
is  worth  three  abducted  boys  that  can- 
not. We  have  recently  been  given  an 
example  of  this,  and  nothing  that  I  can 
say  is  needed  to  make  it  stronger.  And 
look  how  much  better  a  wife  a  woman 
makes  if  she  has  had  the  advantages  of 
higher  education!  Look  how  much 
more  she  is  in  demand,  and  observe  how 
much  better  speech  she  can  make  at  a 
club.  Do  you  suppose  a  lot  of  hard- 
working, ignorant  women  could  have 
talked,  hour  after  hour,  as  the  women 
of  a  certain  club  did  not  long  ago,  trying 
to  wipe  out  the  color  line?  I  guess  not. 
24 


THEODORE 

Why,  after  a  while  a  girl  who  doesn't  cut 
up  live  things,  and  study  the  jointed 
snakes  in  water,  and  smile  upon  diseases 
that  she  has  confined  in  a  bottle — a  girl 
who  is  unacquainted  with  such  things 
may  marry  for  love,  but  not  for  money. 
Men  are  getting  so  that  they  demand 
value  received  when  they  marry.  While 
these  reflections  were  running  through 
my  mind  a  man  came  along  and,  halting 
in  front  of  Teddy,  who  for  a  few  minutes 
had  been  quiet  (having  nothing  to  oc- 
cupy his  attention),  looked  at  him  critic- 
ally for  a  few  moments,  and  then  said: 
"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  you  look 
like  a  thinking  man." 

"You  are  off,"  says  Ted.  "Wake  up 
some  other  passenger." 

"Ah,  I  see  you  are  a  thinking  man, 
and  are  modestly  trying  to  hide  it,"  and 
with  that  he  flirted  out  a  small-size  news- 
paper. "Look  at  that  and  say  that  you 

25 


THEODORE 

have  gazed  upon  the  product  of  the 
greatest  mind  of  the  century,"  says  he, 
his  lip  quivering  with  emotion.  Ted 
took  the  paper  and  says:  "Why,  this  is 
the  Commoner  published  by  my  old 
friend,  Mr.  Bryan." 

The  stranger's  face  lighted  up  at  this. 
"Is  he  an  old  friend  of  yours,  sir?" 

"He  is,  and  no  mistake." 

"Then  you  are  a  friend  of  mine,  no 
matter  what  your  name  may  be.  But 
I  am  more  than  a  friend  of  his.  I  helped 
him  to  start  this  paper,  and  I  am  now 
out  canvassing  for  it." 

"You  didn't  do  half  as  much  to  bring 
it  out  as  I  did,"  says  Teddy. 

"Really,  you  interest  me.  But,  pray, 
sir,  what  did  you  do  to  help  bring  it  out?" 

"I  traveled  all  over  the  country  mak- 
ing speeches,"  says  Ted. 

The  man  grasped  him  warmly  by  the 
hand.  "Then,  sir,  you  have  done  a  pub- 
26 


THEODORE 

lie  good.  Horace  Greeley  started  his 
paper  with  not  more  than  five  hundred 
circulation;  but,  sir,  you  helped  to  start 
one  that  had  fifty  thousand  from  the 
jump." 

Just  at  this  moment  a  noise  at  the 
other  end  of  the  train  attracted  our  at- 
tention. "You'll  have  to  pay  your  fare 
or  get  off,"  exclaimed  the  conductor. 
Two  burly  fellows  swore  that  they 
wouldn't,  and  the  conductor,  a  smallish 
man,  wiped  his  red  brow,  for  he  didn't 
know  what  to  do  under  the  circum- 
stances. Notwithstanding  the  spread  of 
higher  education,  there  are  men  abroad 
who  are  still  steeped  in  darkest  igno- 
rance. By  this  time  Teddy  was  out  of  his 
seat,  walking  toward  the  men.  He  did 
not  falter — that  is  never  a  feature  of  his 
programme.  He  walked  up,  demanded 
the  name  of  the  station  to  which  they 
were  going,  and  thereupon  seized  them, 
27 


THEODORE 

shook  the  exact  change  out  of  their 
pockets,  told  the  conductor  to  help  him- 
self, and  returned  to  resume  his  pleasant 
conversation  with  the  canvasser.  But  he 
was  gone. 

And  now,  overcome  by  drowsiness  for 
lack  of  something  to  do,  Theodore  dozed 
off  to  sleep,  leaving  me  to  my  own  ob- 
servations and  reflections,  and  I  couldn't 
help  overhearing  a  conversation  between 
two  men  who  had  just  got  on.  They 
were  in  the  next  seat  forward.  From 
what  I  could  judge,  they  were  hold-up 
men  of  Chicago,  who  had  been  off  on  a 
vacation. 

"I  am  glad  that  work  is  so  brisk  in 
town,"  said  one  of  them. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  other,  "but  the 
divvy  is  too  big.  The  police  in  my  divi- 
sion are  very  exacting." 

"In  mine,  too,  but  they  say  they  have 
to  be,  to  make  it  all  right  higher  up." 
28 


SHOOK  THE  EXACT  CHANGE 
OUT  OF  THEIR  POCKETS.       Page  28 


THEODORE 

"I  got  a  letter  from  my  sub  the  other 
day  and  he  told  me  they  wanted  half." 

"That's  too  much.  I  don't  mind  giv- 
ing- a  third,  but  a  half "  and  he  shook 

his  head. 

"I  understand,"  said  the  first  speaker, 
"that  the  police  are  talking  of  organiz- 
ing a  hold-up  trust,  and  if  they  do  we 
ought  to  be  in  on  the  ground  floor." 

"Looks  so  to  me.  We  have  been  in 
the  trade  long  enough.  Who  are  them 
duffers  just  behind?" 

"I  guess  one  of  them  is  an  English 
Lord  and  the  other  his  valet." 

"They  must  have  dough.  Suppose 
we  try  'em  when  the  train  stops  for 
supper?" 

The  other  one  agreed,  and  I  closed  my 
eyes  just  as  he  looked  around,  and  from 
that  time  on  I  felt  that  I  was  watched; 
for,  being  a  detective,  I  have  many  intui- 
tions unknown  to  the  average  man.  I 
29 


THEODORE 

wanted  to  tell  Theodore  of  our  danger, 
but  could  not.  They  were  villainous- 
looking  ducks,  and  I  knew  that  they 
would  cut  our  throats  in  a  minute.  Just 
then  the  train  reached  the  supper  station 
and  Ted  woke  up.  "I  have  had  a  charm- 
ing nap,"  says  he.  "I  dreamed  that  some 
fellows  had  me  tied  to  a  stake  out  in 
Kansas  and  were  going  to  burn  me." 
He  hastened  out  and  I  followed  as  fast 
as  I  could,  with  a  view  of  telling  him  of 
his  danger,  but  I  did  not  overtake  him 
until  he  was  in  the  dining-room;  in  fact, 
he  was  seated  and  ready  to  eat  when  I 
reached  the  table.  Fortunately,  the  two 
hold-up  men  sat  at  a  table  some  distance 
off,  so  I  had  a  chance  to  talk,  but  with 
extreme  caution,  for  they  were  watching 
me.  "Theodore,"  says  I,  "don't  look 
round,  but  just  over  there  are  two  men 
who  have  determined  to  rob  us.  They 
think  you  an  English  Lord  and  me  your 
valet."  30 


THEODORE 

"A  gross  insult  to  you,"  said  he,  tear- 
ing a  piece  of  steak  with  his  marvelous 
teeth.  "Anybody  ought  to  know  that 
you  are  a  detective.  But  I  will  deal  with 
them." 

"That's  all  very  well,  but  they  are  not 
to  be  dealt  with  in  the  ordinary  way.  I 
know  you  are  more  than  able  to  take 
care  of  yourself,  but  these  fellows  could 
knock  you  over  in  a  jiffy,  have  your  valu- 
ables and  be  off  to  the  woods  before  any- 
thing could  be  done.  I  live  in  Chicago, 
and  I  know  they  belong  to  a  privileged 
and  a  pampered  class,  and  you  must 
understand  that  it  is  hard  to  break 
through  the  lines  of  long-established 
prerogative." 

"Who  are  they — aldermen?" 

"Not  exactly  that,  but  men  who  some- 
times make  it  possible  for  the  saloons 
of  aldermen  to  exist.  They  are  hold-up 
men." 

31 


THEODORE 

"I  told  you  not  to  warn  me  of  an  ap- 
proaching danger,  and  now  here  you  go, 
turning  the  edge  of  pleasure.  Leave 
them  to  me." 

I  finished  my  supper  in  silence,  some- 
what nettled  at  the  way  in  which  he  had 
received  my  warning.  It  was  not  my  de- 
sire to  intrude  myself  upon  him  to  the 
extent  of  dulling  an  enjoyment;  I  wanted 
to  see  him  have  all  the  fun  possible,  but 
fun  can  be  carried  too  far.  And  besides, 
the  life  of  even  a  great  man  should  not 
be  given  up  wholly  to  sport.  There  are 
occasions  when  even  a  statesman  ought 
to  be  serious,  or  at  least  considerate.  By 
this  time  the  keeper  of  the  eating-house 
came  up,  and,  seeing  that  Theodore  must 
be  a  distinguished  man,  said  to  him:  "I 
hope,  sir,  that  you  have  enjoyed  your 
supper." 

"That  I  have,"  says  Theodore.  "This 
steak  has  given  me  plenty  to  do."  He 
32 


THEODORE 

then  got  up,  shook  hands  with  the 
proprietor,  and  with  never  a  look 
about  him,  started  for  the  door, 
with  the  intention,  I  thought,  of 
getting  back  to  the  train;  but  he 
halted  just  outside  the  door,  I  at 
his  heels,  and  said  to  me:  "Step  on 
off  there.  I  am  going  to  wait  for  our 
friends."  I  knew  that  argument  was  use- 
less, so  I  obeyed,  just  in  time,  too,  for 
the  men  were  coming,  and  as  they 
stepped  out  he  seized  them  each  by  the 
collar  and  brought  their  heads  together 
with  a  bump.  There  are  some  things  that 
even  hold-up  men  cannot  stand,  no  mat- 
ter in  how  fine  a  state  of  training  they 
may  be.  And  these  two  men  simply  col- 
lapsed and  lay  upon  the  ground,  when 
Theodore  turned  them  loose.  I  thought 
that  he  had  killed  them,  and  he  must 
have  thought  so,  too,  for  he  called  for 
a  light.  The  conductor  came  running 

33 


THEODORE 

over  with  his  lantern,  held  it  down,  and 
revealed  the  fact  that  they  were  barely 
alive.  "Victims  of  the  great  American 
habit  of  rushing  to  and  from  meals,"  said 
Theodore.  "They  bumped  into  each 
other.  But,  fortunately,  I  heard  them 
say  that  they  were  not  going  any  farther 
on  your  train,  so  we  might  as  well  pull 
out."  By  this  time  the  men  began  to 
recover,  and  as  the  train  was  behind  time 
the  conductor  waited  for  us  to  satisfy  our 
curiosity.  The  men  came  round  after 
a  while,  and,  as  Theodore  had  predicted, 
did  not  resume  passage  on  the  train. 
That  man's  intuition  is  marvelous. 

We  were  now  running  at  a  high  rate 
of  speed  toward  the  land  of  real  adven- 
ture, with  nothing  to  disturb  the  calm- 
ness of  our  thought,  save  a  red-haired 
boy  of  about  four  years  of  age.  He  be- 
gan to  bawl  for  something  which  his 
mother  had  refused  to  give  him,  and 
34 


THEODORE 

after  she  gave  it  to  him  he  continued  to 
bawl.  Pretty  soon  Theodore's  eye  fell 
upon  the  boy,  and  the  youngster  was 
silent  in  an  instant,  stopping  on  a  half 
note,  with  his  mouth  open. 

"Hush  that,"  said  Theodore. 

"Yes,  sir,  if  you  please,"  says  the 
boy. 

"Why  do  you  howl,  anyway?"  says 
Theodore. 

"Because,  kind  sir,  I  didn't  know  any 
better;  but  I  am  wiser  now." 

"What  is  your  name?" 

"Alonzo  P.  Juniperberry,  sir." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  when  you 
grow  up?" 

"I  am  going  to  make  speeches  and  kill 
bears." 

"Madam,"  says  Theodore,  speaking  to 
the  boy's  mother,  "you  have  a  marvel- 
ously  intelligent  and  promising  son." 

"La,"  she  says,  "I  never  knew  it  be- 
35 


THEODORE 

fore.  But  who  are  you  that  you  should 
have  such  influence  over  him?" 

I  saw  a  laugh  dancing  in  Theodore's 
eye,  first  on  one  foot  and  then  on  the 
other.  "Madam,"  says  he,  "I  am  Carter 
Harrison." 

"Pleased  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Harrison. 
And  where  do  you  live?" 

"I  used  to  live  in  Chicago,  but  since 
my  own  administration  began,  I  merely 
stay  there." 

"I  don't  quite  understand." 

"Madam,"  says  Theodore  with  a  pro- 
found bow,  "permit  me  to  enlighten  you; 
— I  am  the  mayor  of  the  town." 

"Oh,  mayor.  And  what  are  your  du- 
ties?" 

"I  have  none,  Madam." 

"Then  what  is  it  you  do?" 

"Nothing,"  says  Theodore,  with  an- 
other profound  bow.  "Of  course  this  is 
a  humorous  exaggeration,  Madam," 
36 


THEODORE 

Theodore  says,  seeing  that  the  woman 
was  greatly  astonished.  "I  am  some- 
times kept  very  busy,  hiring  men  not  to 
clean  the  streets." 

"And  is  it  very  difficult?" 

"Madam,  to  one  as  well  versed  in  poli- 
tics as  I  am,  it  is  dead  easy." 

"I  am  really  very  glad  to  have  met 
you,  sir,  not  for  the  information  you 
have  given  me  but  for  the  miracle  you 
have  wrought  on  my  dear  child.  Do 
you  know  that  he  is  a  very  undutiful  son? 
He  has  no  respect  for  any  one,  and  he 
threw  a  brick  at  me  just  before  we  left 
home.  What  ought  I  to  do  with  him? 
And  he  is  so  dishonest,  too.  He  has  no 
regard  for  the  rights  of  property.  What 
ought  I  to  do?" 

"Send  him  to  Chicago  and  let  him  be 
a  constable,  and  when  he  improves  his 
disrespect  for  law  and  property  he  might 
become  a  justice  of  the  peace." 
37 


THEODORE 

"Oh,  sir,  you  give  me  such  encourage- 
ment. Well,  we  get  off  here.  Good- 
bye." 

The  woman  and  the  boy  got  off,  and 
Theodore  and  I  turned  in  for  the  night. 


38 


CHAPTER    III 
THE    WOMAN    WITH    THE     HATCHET 

THE  next  morning  we  awoke  out 
upon  the  broad  fields  of  Kansas. 
Theodore  was  fresh  and  of  a  rosy 
hue,  showing  that  he  had  slept  well,  with 
no  traces  of  the  previous  day's  adven- 
tures left  upon  him.     I  spoke  about  it  as 
we  met  in  the  smoking  compartment  to 
put  on  our  collars  and  cuffs.     "Adven- 
tures,"    says     Theodore.     "You    mean 
trifling    dissipations.     No;    they    never 
hurt  me.     I  have  a  remarkable  constitu- 
tion, you  know.     Ah,"  he  went  on  as  he 
looked  out,  "we  are  coming  to  the  land 
of  real  fun.     Look  at  that  jack  rabbit. 
39 


THEODORE 

I  feel  like  getting  out  and  having  a  romp 
with  him.  But  seriously,  I  must  now 
give  over  trifles  and  get  down  to  earnest 
and  business-like  sport.  No  more 
pranks  for  me  now,  pretending  to  be  one 
man  when  all  the  nation  knows  that  I 
am  another.  But  some  of  man's  keenest 
pleasures  come  to  him  when  his  identity 
is  hidden.  The  dignity  of  a  name  ob- 
structs free  communication,  and  to  dis- 
,  cover  human  nature  in  all  its  phases 
ought  to  be  the  aim  of  every  really  great 
man.  Sometimes  we  pick  up  by  the 
road-side  a  piece  of  wisdom  that  we  could 
not  find  in  the  halls  of  state.  Mr.  Cleve- 
land— and  I  regard  him  as  really  a  great 
man — was  wont,  at  troublous  times,  to 
go  forth  and  learn  from  guides  and  boat- 
men; and  but  for  his  jug  and  his  gun  I 
do  not  believe  that  he  ever  could  have 
settled  so  many  vexatious  questions. 
Once  he  said  to  me,  'Theodore,'  says 
40 


THEODORE 

he,  'there  is  more  good  council  in  about 
five  fingers  of  old  rye  than  in  ten  heads 
of  old  men.'  But  we  have  had  great  men 
who  were  not  of  this  opinion.  Now 
there  was  Radford  B.  Hayes"— "Ruther- 
ford," I  suggested,  proud  to  be  of  any 
assistance  to  him. 

"Was  it?  I  believe  you  are  right,  and 
by  the  way,  I  wish  to  take  this  oppor- 
tunity to  compliment  you,  for  I  see  that 
you  are  to  be  of  assistance  to  me.  Yes, 
it  was  Rutherford — and  he  did  not  be- 
lieve in  the  jug.  Consequently  his 
administration  was  fraught  with  many 
mistakes,  the  institution  of  the  civil  ser- 
vice system  being  one  of  them.  Good 
cheer  was  banished  from  the  White 
House,  and  foreign  ambassadors  were 
compelled  after  a  function  to  go  home 
sober  and  complaining." 

"But  you  don't  drink  to  speak  of," 
says  I. 

41 


THEODORE 

"No,  that's  a  fact.  I  do  not  advocate 
drinking,  but  I  do  advocate  the  spirit  of 
liberality  that  makes  men  drink.  In  or- 
der to  be  really  great,  you  must  under- 
stand those  little  metaphysical  differ- 
ences." 

"Theodore,  we  are  here  alone,  and 
therefore  I  can  speak  freely  with  you, 
can't  I?" 

He  gave  me  a  smile  which  the  fact  that 
I  mention  it  proves  that  I  have  not  for- 
gotten. "Yes,  thank  you,"  I  went  on, 
taking  my  privilege  for  granted.  "And 
now  there  is  something  that  I  wish  to 
ask  you.  You  know  that  as  a  rule  a  vice- 
president  is  not  put  up  by  a  convention 
as  a  candidate  for  president."  Theodore 
was  not  surprised  at  this.  He  merely 
nodded  and  I  proceeded:  "Then  how  do 
you  expect  ever  to  be  president?" 

He  answered  without  hesitation. 
"The  average  man  put  up  for  vice-presi- 
42 


THEODORE 

dent  shows  weakness  before  the  end 
of  his  term  and,  of  course,  is  not  men- 
tioned for  the  higher  place.  He  stag- 
nates in  obscurity — presiding  over  a 
body  of  men  distinguished  as  the  dull 
obstructionists  of  the  more  vigorous 
house.  In  this  dignity  he  foreshadows 
his  approaching  death.  He  is  rusted 
with  sedentary  importance — stilted  inac- 
tivity. And  by  the  time  for  another  cam- 
paign, some  one  asks:  'Who  is  that  harm- 
less-looking old  gentleman?'  Now  it  is 
my  aim  to  reverse  this  order.  In  all 
walks  of  life  there  has  been  a  return  to 
romance,  both  in  fiction  and  in  politics. 
We  like  to  read  of  kings  and  princes  more 
than  we  ever  did — our  households  are 
set  in  a  flutter  over  the  picture  of  a  royal 
petticoat.  In  this  country  we  cannot 
have  anything  approaching  royalty,  but 
our  rulers  can  imitate  the  kings  of  a 
former  age — we  can  hunt  and  thereby 

43 


THEODORE 

challenge  a  romantic  respect  and  estab- 
lish ourselves  firmly  in  the  public  mind. 
We  know  of  a  prince  who  had  done  little 
to  endear  himself  to  the  people  of  his 
realm  until  he  shot  a  buffalo  that  some 
cow-boys  held  for  him.  Of  course  his 
people  thought  that  the  animal  came  at 
him  red  eyed." 

"Theodore,"  said  I,  "your  argument 
is  profound.  They  have  a  diner  hooked 
on.  Let  us  go  back  to  breakfast." 

This  man  might  be  a  shedder  of  blood, 
I  mused  as  we  were  at  breakfast,  but  he 
is  also  a  shedder  of  wisdom.  The  waiter 
came  up  and  with  insolence  showed  that 
he  expected  a  tip,  but  Theodore  gave 
him  one  glance,  and  he  at  once  subsided 
into  decency  and  respect.  "How  won- 
derful is  man,"  I  mused.  I  had  heard 
this  before,  but  not  until  recently  had  I 
seen  it  set  forth  with  all  the  colors  of  the 
rainbow.  Theodore  asked  several  ques- 
44 


THEODORE 

' 
tions  and  the  waiter  answered  them,  and 

he  did  not  even  slosh  the  water-bottle  at 
me,  but  put  it  down  in  front  of  me  with 
stupefied  consideration.  A  baggage  man 
came  through  and  having  looked  at 
Theodore,  did  not  shake  his  brass  checks 
in  my  face.  Surely  the  world  was  under- 
going a  great  change. 

There  was  yet  a  long  and  tiresome  ride 
before  us,  and  I  could  see  that  Theodore 
was  beginning  to  grow  restless,  when  a 
woman  got  aboard.  That  was  nothing 
extraordinary,  but  this  woman  had  an 
axe.  She  wore  short  hair  and  a  hard 
and  determined  glitter  in  her  eye.  Theo- 
dore was  at  once  interested.  "Chopping 
wood  for  a  living?"  he  asked. 

And  she  gave  him  a  look  that  made 
him  dodge.  "Attend  to  your  own  affairs 
and  I'll  attend  to  mine,"  she  snapped. 

"Good,"  cried  Theodore,  straighten- 
ing up  and  bracing  himself.  He  gave 

45 


THEODORE 

her  a  look  and  a  smile,  but  she  wasn't 
fazed.  She  set  her  lips  and  looked  at 
him. 

"Who  be  you?"  says  she. 

"Merely  a  man  traveling  for  his 
health,"  says  Theodore,  somewhat 
cowed,  I  thought. 

"Then  travel  on  and  keep  your  mouth 
shut,"  says  she. 

Just  at  this  moment  the  train  stopped 
at  a  small  town.  The  woman  looked 
out,  snatched  up  her  axe  and  got  off. 
"You  fail  to  wait  for  me  if  you  dare,"  she 
says  to  the  conductor,  and  he  waited 
with  lamb-like  patience.  The  woman 
crossed  a  street  and  boldly  walked  into 
a  saloon.  Then  came  a  hoarse  cry,  fol- 
lowed by  the  terrific  smashing  of  things. 
Out  came,  rolling,  a  barrel  of  liquor. 
The  woman  caught  up  with  it,  knocked 
it  in  the  head,  and  quietly  got  on  the 
train. 

46 


'YOU  FAIL  TO  WAIT  FOR  ME 

IF  YOU  DAR.E."       Page  46 


THEODORE 

"You  seem  to  be  a  pretty  busy 
woman,"  says  Theodore,  as  she  sat  down 
near  us.  "I  am,"  says  she,  and  then  sig- 
naled to  the  conductor  that  he  might  go 
ahead.  After  the  train  was  under  way, 
Theodore  spoke  to  her  again: 

"Granddaughter  of  John  Brown,  I 
presume." 

"Yes,  you  do  presume.  Shut  your 
mouth." 

Theodore  didn't  like  this  very  much, 
and  he  began  to  twist  about  on  his  seat. 
If  she  had  been  a  man  or  an  animal  he 
would  have  known  how  to  deal  with  her, 
but  being  a  problem  which  even  five  fin- 
gers of  old  rye  could  not  have  solved,  he 
sat  mute  in  her  presence.  After  a  while 
she  spoke:  "Haven't  you- got  anything 
to  do  but  to  travel  about — you?" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Madam,  I  am  not 
traveling  for  my  health,"  says  Theodore, 
taking  water.     "I  am  on  business." 
47 


THEODORE 

'Then  why  did  you  want  to  lie  about 
it?  Haven't  you  got  any  better  sense 
than  to  lie — to  me!" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Madam.  Ah, 
but  may  I  ask  what  your  specialty  is," 
says  Theodore,  growing  bolder. 

"I  am  as  you  have  just  seen,  in  the 
saloon  business,"  she  says,  tightening 
her  lips. 

"Pretty  good  business?"  says  Theo- 
dore. 

"Very,"  she  says,  looking  out  the  win- 
dow for  another  liquor  joint  as  the  train 
stopped.  There  was  none,  however, 
and  she  did  not  stir,  but  sat  quietly  nurs- 
ing her  axe. 

"Any  children?"  says  Theodore,  notic- 
ing her  affectionate  manner. 

"Any  what!"  she  snapped. 

"Children — little  ones  at  home?" 

"Children,  little  ones,"  she  repeated 
with  contempt.  "What  do  I  want  with 
48 


THEODORE 

brats.  I  have  a  better  mission  than  rais- 
ing kids." 

"What  brand  of  whisky  do  you  prefer 
to  smash?"  says  Theodore,  gradually 
getting  himself  in  better  hand. 

"It  makes  no  difference  to  me  so  long 
as  it's  liquor." 

"I  suppose  now  and  then  you  tap  a 
keg  of  beer,  or  give  an  exhibition  of  a 
brandy  smash?" 

"It  don't  make  any  difference  to  me — 
I  smash  anything." 

We  were  now  approaching  another 
town  and  the  woman  got  up,  with  her 
axe  firmly  grasped  in  her  hand.  When 
she  got  off  there  was  a  slamming  of 
doors  and  a  scurrying  in  every  direction, 
and  just  as  the  train  started  we  heard  the 
ringing  crash  of  glass.  And  thus  we  got 
through  the  day,  and  as  night  closed  in, 
with  myriads  of  stars  in  the  rarefied  sky, 
Theodore  said  that  the  time  had  not 
been  heavy.  49 


CHAPTER    IV 
CAPTURING    A    PREACHER 

NOW  at  last  we  were  in  sight    of 
the    great    mountains.     "Prehis- 
toric upheavals  of  eternal  adven- 
ture," says  Theodore,  nodding  his  head 
in  approval  at  them.     "There's  nothing 
stale  about  those  hills,  at  least  there  is 
nothing  flat,"  he  added  with  a  smile  that 
lives  with  me  yet.     "And  here  we  drop 
the  dull  affairs  of  family  life,  such  as  we 
have  been  compelled  to  endure  lately, 
and  take  up  true  adventure.     I  can  stand 
a  good  deal  of  the  tedium  of  existence, 
but  after  all,  I  have  nerves,  and  dullness 
wears  on  me.     And  I  am  fond   of   the 
so 


THEODORE 

society  of  vivacious  ladies,  but  that 
woman  we  met  on  the  train  yesterday 
soon  palled  on  me." 

We  were  to  get  off  at  the  next  stop, 
a  small  town  in  the  foot-hills,  and 
although  the  coming  of  Theodore  had 
been  kept  reasonably  quiet,  yet  we  knew 
that  we  should  be  met  by  a  goodly  num- 
ber of  admirers.  But  on  getting  off, 
the  demonstration  was  different  from 
what  we  expected.  The  town  was  in  a 
great  uproar,  and  apparently  not  on  our 
account.  In  fact,  a  moment's  investiga- 
tion was  enough  to  settle  the  truth  that 
we  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  A  fero- 
cious madman,  confined  for  shipment  on 
the  train,  had  broken  loose  and  was  at 
large.  He  had  been  prominent  in  the 
silver  craze,  and  was  one  of  the  most 
highly  respected  citizens  of  the  place,  but 
he  went  daft,  and  it  was  a  matter  of  self- 
protection  to  confine  him  until  the  next 
Si 


THEODORE 

presidential  election.  Thus  much  of  his 
history  we  were  able  to  learn  in  a  few 
moments.  In  fact  we  learned  more. 
That  morning  after  his  escape  he  had 
committed  all  sorts  of  depredations. 
Knocking  the  station  agent  endwise,  he 
ran  across  a  strip  of  prairie  to  the  house 
of  the  local  banker,  made  himself  master 
of  the  yard,  bit  the  clothesline  in  two, 
kicked  in  the  ribs  of  a  harmless  calf,  bit 
a  hemp-haired  servant  girl  on  the  top  of 
her  head,  ran  round  to  the  rear  of  the 
house  and  kicked  high  into  the  air  a  pan 
of  mackerel  that  the  banker's  wife  had 
put  to  soak  on  the  steps.  All  this  was 
likely  to  attract  attention  enough,  but  he 
did  not  stop  here.  Just  over  the  fence 
lived  the  leading  merchant  of  the  place, 
and  in  his  house  the  Ladies'  Library 
Association  had  gathered  to  discuss  the 
question  of  whether  or  not  certain  nov- 
els written  by  young  women  were  to  be 
52 


THEODORE 

admitted.  Mrs.  Callington  W.  Botts 
was  speaking,  in  clear  and  distinct  tones, 
when  the  madman  appeared  at  the  door. 
"No  reporters  are  wanted  here,"  said 
the  hostess,  seizing  the  madman  and 
drawing  him  into  the  room. 

"I  want  you  to  note  the  attitude  I 
take,"  cried  the  speaker,  "but  I  defy  you 
to  print  it  in  your  paper." 

A  light  of  insane  joy  illumined  the  face 
of  the  daft.  He  seized  a  Filipino  bat- 
tle axe  (brought  from  Luzon  by  J.  V. 
Patfitzric,  suttler)  swung  it  around,  and 
with  a  distressing  but  it  must  be  admitted 
a  tuneful  whang,  brought  it  down  upon 
the  installment  piano.  The  scene 
changed  from  one  of  literary  progress, 
where  experience  counted  for  so  much, 
to  one  of  physical  astonishment  and 
fright,  where  experience  counted  for 
nothing.  Just  at  this  moment  the  serv- 
ant girl  entered  with  a  broad  tray  of  red 
53 


THEODORE 

and  yellow  refreshments.  The  terrified 
company  fled  at  the  sound  of  the  whang, 
but  the  stupid  girl,  thinking  that  the 
madman  was  giving  some  sort  of  piano 
recital,  stood  mutely  waiting  for  him  to 
taste  her  ware.  He  had  been  on  the 
flattened  outside  of  politics  so  often  that 
kicking  was  his  Prince  Albert — I  mean 
his  long  suit — and  with  his  toe  under 
the  tray  he  plastered  the  red  and  yellow 
stuff  on  the  ceiling.  The  girl  picked  up 
the  tray  and  stupidly  walked  out  to  get 
another  load,  but  the  madman  did  not 
wait  for  her  return.  Out  of  an  Oriental 
jar  he  grabbed  an  armful  of  golf  sticks, 
ran  into  the  yard  and  amused  himself  by 
throwing  them  at  the  fleeing  members 
of  the  library  association,  giving  hefty 
Mrs.  Potgilder  an  awful  thump  as  she  was 
poised  on  the  fence,  unable  to  get  off. 
By  this  time  the  city  authorities  were 
after  him,  but  armed  with  a  golf  stick, 
54 


THEODORE 

he  swept  them  from  his  pathway  and  pur- 
sued his  destructive  course.  And  now, 
just  as  we  got  off  the  train,  he  was  at 
large  somewhere  down  the  road.  Natu- 
rally the  helpless  populace  turned  to 
Theodore  for  assistance,  and  I  saw  him 
smile.  "Be  of  good  cheer,"  said  he  to  the 
mayor,  and  immediately  set  off  down 
the  road.  "It  seems  that  I  am  to  be  be- 
set with  lunatics,"  said  he  to  me,  as  we 
walked  along  briskly  together.  I  hadn't 
forgotten  the  lizard  eater,  but  he  had 
only  a  knife  while  this  chap  had  a  golf 
stick.  Years  ago  I  was  scalped  while 
playing  shinny,  and  ever  since  then  I 
have  trembled  in  mortal  dread  at  the 
sight  of  a  crooked  stick,  but  I  concealed 
my  fear  from  Theodore.  He  is  all  nerve 
and  can't  understand  why  any  man 
should  dread  any  sort  of  weapon.  Well, 
we  had  gone  some  distance  when  we  saw 
a  man  coming  toward  us,  with  a  golf 

55 


THEODORE 

stick  in  his  hand.  I  drew  back,  but 
Theodore  bade  me  not  to  be  afraid,  and 
his  command — for  it  was  a  command 
more  than  a  bidding — his  command  took 
some  of  the  scare  out  of  me  as  it  always 
does;  still,  I  was  nervous.  "I  will  pre- 
tend that  I  am  going  to  pass  him  and 
then  leap  on  him  unawares,"  says  Theo- 
dore. I  had  provided  a  rope,  and  Theo- 
dore told  me  to  have  it  handy.  "And 
have  your  handkerchief  ready  to  gag 
him,"  says  he.  "Nothing  can  yell 
louder  than  a  madman  thwarted,  and  I 
don't  want  any  noise." 

The  man  came  along  at  a  brisk  pace. 
He  was  a  stalwart  fellow,  taller  and 
broatler  than  Theodore.  And  knowing 
that  madmen  are  for  a  time  gifted  with 
an  almost  superhuman  strength,  I  con- 
fess that  I  was  not  altogether  easy  as  to 
the  outcome  of  the  struggle.  And  strug- 
gle it  was.  The  madman  evidently  sus- 
56 


THEODORE 

pected  nothing.  His  mind  must  have 
been  wandering,  for  he  was  humming  a 
tune,  but  I  did  not  see  any  music  in  his 
eye  as  he  raised  it  in  a  quick  glance. 
The  next  moment  he  was  in  the  bear- 
like  embrace  of  our  hero.  He  howled 
and  strove  with  his  great  strength  to 
free  himself — but  Theodore  tripped  him, 
and  tied  him  while  he  still  yelled.  And 
then  we  gagged  him.  Then  began  the 
triumphant  march  back  to  the  town. 
The  people  saw  us  coming  and  many  of 
them  ran  to  meet  us — among  them  the 
president  of  the  library  association  whose 
feminine  instincts  suggested  to  her  that 
she  should  have  first  revenge  for  the  yel- 
low and  red  stuff  still  dripping  from  her 
ceiling.  But  when  she  reached  us,  she 
threw  up  her  hands  and  gave  a  loud  cry. 
"Mercy  on  us!"  she  shrieked,  "this  is  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Solomon  Brown."  And  so  in- 
deed it  proved  to  be.  He  was  on  his 
57 


THEODORE 

way  to  town  to  play  golf  with  the  young 
ladies  of  the  Simpering  Society.  We 
stood  dumfounded,  not  knowing  what 
to  say,  but  Theodore,  who  is  never  long 
at  a  loss  for  a  word  or  a  mode  of  proced- 
ure, remarked,  when  the  minister  had 
been  liberated:  "Sir,  I  fear  that  some  mis- 
take has  been  made  here." 

"So  it  appears,  sir,"  replied  the  min- 
ister, trying  to  smile,  but  failing.  Ah, 
it  takes  Theodore  to  smile  at  anything. 

"I  was  under  the  belief,  sir,  that  I  was 
doing  the  public  a  good  turn,"  says 
Theodore. 

"Sir,"  says  the  preacher,  "it  is  not  do- 
ing the  public  a  good  turn  when  you 
muzzle  the  pulpit." 

"I  agree  with  you  there,  sir,"  says 
Theodore,  "but  let  us  put  it  down  as  one 
of  the  mistakes  of  the  clergy." 

"Sir,  I  have  made  no  mistake.     It  is 
you  who  fell  into  error." 
58 


THEODORE 

"Sir,"  says  Theodore,  "I  think  you 
invited  error,  as  the  pulpit  often  does. 
You  came  along  with  a  golf  stick  when 
it  was  known  that  dementia  had  as- 
sumed that  staff.  The  men  of  old  car- 
ried the  shepherd's  crook,  and  flocks  fol- 
lowed them;  but  you  have  taken  up  a 
fadish  stick  to  follow  a  foolish  flock." 

"Sir,  I  feel  your  rebuke."  Hereupon 
there  was  a  murmur  of  applause,  show- 
ing that  Theodore  had  scored  one  on  the 
ho-li  man.  Then  followed  good-hu- 
mored hand  shaking,  and  the  kind- 
hearted  clergyman  extended  to  us  his 
forgiveness  if  not  his  congratulations. 
He  told  Theodore  that  he  hoped  he 
would  make  a  wise  and  considerate  ruler. 
"I  did  not  know  it,"  says  he,  "but  I  am 
glad  to  meet  you." 

Theodore  gave  him  a  choice  smile 
from  a  well-selected  collection,  and  all 
was  serene.  On  our  way  to  town  we 

59 


THEODORE 

were  met  by  the  civic  societies,  and  par- 
ticularly by  the  young  ladies  of  the  Sim- 
pering Society,  who  saluted  us  with  their 
sticks.  The  minister,  who  had  aban- 
doned his  club  as  a  result  of  Theodore's 
rebuke,  bowed  his  head  with  never  a 
word. 

That  afternoon,  while  we  were  having 
our  accoutrements  put  in  order,  we  at- 
tended a  reception  given  in  the  parlors 
whence  the  library  association  had  been 
expelled,  and  the  girl  brought  in  red  and 
yellow  stuff;  and  so  given  was  she  to  the 
force  of  habit  that,  going  up  to  Theo- 
dore, she  held  out  the  tray  and  meekly 
said:  "Do  you  wish  to  kick,  sir?" 

The  firemen  and  the  venerable  associa- 
tion of  Pikespeakers  would  have  kept  us 
up  all  night,  but  we  retired  early  to  bed, 
thrilled  with  the  prospect  of  true  sport 
so  close  at  hand. 


60 


CHAPTER   V 
THE    ROUGH    WRITERS 

THERE  had  been  a  skift  of  snow 
during    the    night,  but    the    day 
dawned  without  a  cloud.     Down 
the    stairs    came   bounding   Theodore, 
younger  by  five  years  than  he  had  been 
yesterday.     We  knew  that  there  would 
be  some  sort  of  demonstration  on  the 
street  when  we  went  forth,  and  there 
was — the  blowing  of  horns  and  the  beat- 
ing of  tin  pans  as  our  procession  moved 
along.    Our  cavalcade  consisted  of  Theo- 
dore, myself  and  three  pack  mules  loaded 
with     ammunition.     Just     outside     the 
town  we  were  joined  by  a  score  of  news- 
61 


THEODORE 

paper  correspondents,  "Rough  Writ- 
ers," as  Theodore  termed  them.  And 
now  we  all  began  our  ascent  of  the  foot- 
hills. At  a  little  place,  the  last  vestige 
of  civilization — Sock  Heel,  I  believe  they 
call  it — we  were  overtaken  by  Skin 
Bluke,  a  well  known  bear  hunter.  The 
meeting  between  him  and  Theodore  was 
warm  almost  to  emotionalism.  Theo- 
dore and  he  had  been  together  at  a  time 
that  tried  men's  souls — and  their  bodies, 
too — for  cutting  wire  fences. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you,  and  that's  no 
joke,"  says  Theodore,  suiting  his  lan- 
guage to  the  occasion,  ever  ready  to  ad- 
just himself  to  the  highest  or  the  lowest 
form  of  society. 

"It's  a  pipe  when  I  say  I'm  glad  to  see 
you,"  says  Skin,  who  during  his  varied 
life  had  lived  in  the  city. 

"Have  you  had  any  sport  lately?"  says 
Theodore. 

fe 


THEODORE 

"Very  little,"  says  Skin,  in  choice  lan- 
guage. "But  things  hain't  been  alto- 
gether dull  for  the  boys.  They  had  one 
burning  not  long  ago  and  may  have 
another  soon,  now  they've  got  their  hand 
in." 

"Beautiful  day,"  says  Theodore,  turn- 
ing the  subject,  for  he  has  to  overlook 
the  barbaric  pleasures  of  some  of  his 
friends. 

"Couldn't  be  better,"  says  Skin,  with  a 
poetic  expression  of  countenance. 
"How  much  ammunition  have  you?"  he 
says,  again  becoming  practical. 

"About  four  tons,"  says  Theodore. 
"Think  that  will  answer?" 

"On  a  pinch,"  says  Skin,  shrewdly 
looking  round  at  the  mules. 

"Old  Sir  Billy  is  still  alive  and  at  large, 
I  reckon?"  says  Theodore. 

"As  live  as  a  kitten." 

My  curiosity  being  aroused,  I  asked 
63 


THEODORE 

to  be  informed  as  to  the  person  referred 
to,  and  first  by  one  and  then  by  the 
other  I  was  enlightened  to  this  effect: 
Many  years  ago  an  enormous  grizzly 
bear  announced  his  appearance  by  kill- 
ing three  hunters  and  scaring  a  fourth 
into  an  epilepsy  that  had  defied  the  skill 
of  all  physicians.  Shortly  afterward  the 
same  bear  went  to  a  camp  supply  store, 
killed  the  proprietor,  snatched  an  arm 
oft"  a  harmless  bystander,  ate  all  the 
sugar  on  the  place,  and  turned  over  the 
house.  Later  he  attacked  an  ore-bear- 
ing mule  train,  killed  the  driver,  broke 
the  necks  of  all  the  mules  and  scattered 
the  ore  at  his  humorous  pleasure.  Bands 
of  men  were  organized  by  the  state  to  kill 
him;  they  were  drilled  and  accoutered 
as  if  going  to  war,  and  indeed  they  were. 
Billy  met  the  first  detachment  in  a  nar- 
row defile.  Some  say  he  hurled  great 
bowlders  at  them,  others,  more  modest, 
64 


THEODORE 

declare  that  he  simply  used  the  weapons 
supplied  by  nature;  but  be  that  as  it  may 
or  as  it  was,  the  detachment  was  almost 
wholly  destroyed.  Other  engagements 
were  fought,  always  with  the  same  result, 
until  the  state  grew  tired.  Since  then 
men  did  not  look  for  Sir  Billy,  but  re- 
garded themselves  as  fortunate  when 
they  succeeded  in  keeping  out  of  his 
way. 

Considering  the  lead  that  had  been 
pumped  into  him,  it  was  now  estimated 
that  he  would  weigh  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  four  thousand  pounds.  Skin 
swore  that  he  could  not  be  killed  by 
man.  Old  man  Heffner  had  suddenly 
come  upon  him.  He  had  no  weapon 
but  his  pick-axe;  but  this  he  wielded 
with  fierce  determination,  knowing  his 
antagonist  at  sight.  It  seems  that  Sir 
Billy  was  stupid,  having  just  woke  up, 
thereby  giving  Heffner  the  first  blow. 
65 


THEODORE 

And  it  was  no  light  one.  He  swung  the 
pick-axe  and  brought  it  down  on  the 
bear's  back.  Sir  Billy  sniffed  and  sat 
down  to  scratch  himself.  The  fact  is 
that  the  point  of  the  pick-axe  entered  a 
lump  of  lead  and  was  not  felt.  Heffner 
owes  his  escape  to  some  sort  of  miracle. 
He  felt  himself  tumbling  down  the  ra- 
vine, and  when  he  reached  the  bottom  he 
looked  up,  having  fallen  in  a  bed  of  soft 
snow,  and  saw  the  bear  looking  down  at 
him,  with  the  pick-axe  still  sticking  in  his 
back.  The  old  man  could  not  afford  to 
lose  his  implement  of  daily  labor — he 
knew  that  it  was  exempt  from  seizure 
by  the  law,  and  so  he  shouted:  "Here, 
you  can't  take  that.  Throw  it  down 
here."  And  he  swears  that  the  bear 
threw  it  down.  This  was  questioned  by 
some  who  knew  the  ferocious  habits  of 
Sir  Billy,  but  Heffner  brought  the  pick- 
axe home  with  him.  I  asked  Theodore 
66 


THEODORE 

how  he  came  by  the  name  of  Sir  Billy. 
"Once,"  says  he,  "there  came  up  here 
a  representative  of  British  royalty.  Four 
of  his  men  were  killed  by  the  bear,  which 
you  will  learn  to  distinguish  by  a  great 
bunch  of  red  hair  on  his  breast.  This  set 
the  Englishman  to  thinking.  'Ah,'  he 
said,  within  hearing  of  the  grizzly,  'I 
see  your  point.  You  don't  want  to  be 
killed.  We  will  see  about  that.'  So  he 
set  a  big  steel  trap  and  baited  it  with 
honey,  and  the  bear  was  caught,  but  he 
broke  the  chain  and  walked  off  with  the 
trap  fastened  around  his  ankle.  'Bravo!' 
cried  his  highness,  'he  belongs  to  the  Or- 
der of  the  Garter.'  And  ever  since, 
recognizing  his  title  to  knighthood,  we 
have  called  him  Sir  Billy.  It  was  a  long 
time  before  he  got  the  trap  off,  but  he 
did  finally,  and  is  now  as  free  as  ever,  I 
am  told,  with  the  exception  of  his  in- 
creasing weight,  as  more  lead  is  added 
67 


THEODORE 

to  him.  I  have  never  encountered  him, 
but  I  believe  that  if  I  get  a  good  square 
shot  at  him  I  can  fetch  him  down." 

"Are  you  goin'  to  look  for  him?"  says 
Skin. 

"That  is  the  main  object  of  my  visit," 
says  Theodore.  "To  tell  you  the  truth 
I  don't  believe  that  I  could  preside  over 
the  senate  of  the  United  States  feeling 
that  old  Billy  was  alive.  I  have  thought 
of  it  day  and  night  and  I  know  that  I 
couldn't  keep  my  mind  off  him,  and  a 
man  in  so  venerable  a  chair  ought  not  to 
have  his  mind  distracted  in  that  way." 

Skin  halted  and  said:  "Well,  if  that's 
what  you're  after  you  may  count  me  out, 
as  the  democrat  said  to  the  republican 
in  the  days  of  reconstruction.  I  know 
that  bear." 

"But  you  also  know  me,"  says  Teddy, 
his  pride  rising. 

"Yes,  I  do  that  same,  but  not  as  well 
68 


THEODORE 

as  I  do  the  bear.  My  wife  has  been  a 
widder  three  times,  she  tells  me,  and  it  is 
not  my  intention  to  make  her  one  the 
fourth  time,  if  I  can  help  it.  I  would 
like  to  fight  lions  and  wolves  with  you, 
with  an  occasional  fall  out  of  any  man 
that  needs  killin',  but  that  bear  reached 
out  from  behind  a  rock  once,  and  made 
a  swipe  at  me, — in  five  minutes  I  fell  off 
forty  pounds  or  more,  and  I  haven't  any 
flesh  to  spare  at  present."  He  turned 
back  and  we  saw  him  fade  away  down 
the  trail.  And  this  was  the  sort  of  sport 
we  were  going  to  hunt.  I  hinted  that, 
as  Sir  Billy  seemed  to  be  found  easily, 
there  was  really  no  need  of  a  detective, 
but  Theodore  reached  over,  put  his  hand 
on  my  shoulder,  and  I  said  no  more;  but 
I  felt  myself  quaking  from  time  to  time. 
A  little  further  on  we  met  a  man  who, 
when  questioned,  said  that  the  great  bear 
had  not  been  seen  for  some  time,  almost 
69 


THEODORE 

a  year.  The  general  impression  was,  not 
that  he  was  dead,  but  that  he  had  gone 
off  somewhere  to  visit  his  relatives.  The 
last  time  he  was  seen  he  had  driven  a 
number  of  miners  away  from  their  camp 
one  bitterly  cold  day.  Looking  round, 
they  saw  him  standing  upright,  with  his 
back  to  the  fire,  warming  himself. 

When  we  halted  for  refreshments  I 
drew  the  stranger  to  one  side  and  asked 
him  to  give  me  his  honest  opinion  about 
that  ferocious  animal.  He  smiled  and 
said  that  there  wasn't  any  particular 
opinion  to  give.  Everybody  knew  him 
and  everybody  kept  out  of  his  way.  He 
told  me  that  an  enterprising  man  rigged 
up  a  mountain  howitzer  on  a  mule  and 
went  up  into  Sir  Billy's  territory.  There 
were  bets  as  to  whether  he  would  come 
back  or  not.  Among  the  company  was  a 
soldier  who  knew  the  workings  and  the 
utility  of  that  sort  of  cannon,  and  he  said 
70 


WITH  HIS  BACK  TO  THE  FIRE 

WARMING  HIMSELF.        Page  7° 


THEODORE 

that  all  the  enterprising  man  had  to  do 
was  to  get  the  bear  to  stand  still  for  a 
few  moments;  but,  as  every  one  knows 
the  restlessness  of  a  bear,  the  bets  were 
against  the  success  of  the  expedition. 
It  seems,  however,  that  luck  in  some  de- 
gree was  in  favor  of  the  bold  man,  whose 
name  was  simply  Elias  Smith.  He 
walked  on,  leading  his  mule,  and  just 
about  the  time  the  sun  was  setting,  he 
saw  Sir  Billy  standing  on  a  rock,  bathed 
in  gold.  His  breast  was  partly  exposed, 
and  the  man  saw  the  flaming  bunch  of 
red  hair.  From  his  coat  pocket  he  took 
out  a  handful  of  oats  and  induced  the 
mule  to  turn  round.  But  to  save  him 
he  couldn't  get  the  exact  sight.  The 
screw,  or  whatever  you  call  it,  couldn't 
be  worked,  and  the  gun  could  not  be 
raised  high  enough.  But  Smith  was  full 
of  enterprise.  He  made  quick  calcula- 
tion as  to  how  much  of  a  raise  was 
71 


THEODORE 

needed,  found  two  stones  of  the  proper 
thickness  and  coaxed  the  mule  to  let  him 
put  them  under  his  hind  feet.  The  mule 
didn't  like  it,  but  Smith  gave  him  more 
oats  to  distract  his  attention.  And  now 
all  was  ready.  The  bear  had  not  changed 
his  position.  He  stood  as  bears  often 
stand  when  they  have  their  pictures 
taken  to  be  used  for  advertising  pur- 
poses. Smith  struck  a  match.  But  just 
as  he  touched  it  to  the  priming,  or  the 
infinitesimal  part  of  a  second  sooner,  the 
mule  coughed  and  one  of  the  rocks  slid 
from  under  his  hoof.  Then  there  was 
a  thunderous  jar,  the  mule  jumped  like  a 
rabbit,  leaped  off  the  rock  and  rattled 
down  into  the  gorge  three  thousand  feet. 
He  almost  carried  Smith  with  him,  and 
would  if  he  hadn't  held  on  to  a  sharp 
point  of  rock.  But  the  bear!  Smith 
looked,  with  his  heart  in  his  eyes,  and 
there  stood  the  bear,  shaking  chunks  of 
72 


THEODORE 

granite  from  his  back  and  shoulders, 
ready  to  have  his  picture  taken.  The 
ball  had  struck  about  eight  feet  below 
him,  and  had  sprinkled  him  with  frag- 
ments of  rock — that  was  all.  Smith,  be- 
ing a  man  of  resources,  took  to  his  heels, 
and  the  only  reason  he  ever  got  back  was 
the  fact  that  the  bear  was  preoccupied 
at  the  time.  This  adventure  was  told  to 
me  as  I  sat  on  a  stone,  trying  to  drink  a 
tin  cup  of  coffee.  And  I  said  to  myself 
that  it  was  almost  criminal  to  invite 
slaughter.  The  bear  couldn't  be  killed, 
that  was  evident,  and  whether  or  not  we 
should  come  back  alive,  if  we  found  him, 
depended  not  upon  our  strength,  but 
upon  his  peculiar  humor  at  the  time  of 
the  meeting.  I  thought  it  my  self-sworn 
duty  to  remonstrate  with  our  hero;  but 
at  that  instant  he  shouted  to  us  to  mount, 
and  away  we  went,  up  into  the  jaws  of 
Sir  Billy. 

73 


CHAPTER   VI 
FIVE  LIONS  AT  ONE  SHOT 

WE  halted  high  up,  just  before 
passing  the  edge  of  the  timber 
line,  and  a  more  picture-like 
place  could  not  have  been  chosen  for  a 
camp.  It  was  in  a  little  plat  of  level 
ground  and  was  surrounded  by  high 
rocks.  At  one  corner  there  was  a  spring 
that  boiled  up  like  water  in  a  pot.  We 
were  provided  with  a  snug  cabin  for  our- 
selves, a  warm  stable  for  the  horses  and 
mules,  and  a  shed  for  the  Rough  Writers. 
One  of  the  leading  correspondents/  a 
Rough  Writer  who  had  distinguished 
himself  at  hangings  and  stake  perform- 
ances, called  on  Theodore  just  as  we  sat 
74 


THEODORE 

down  to  our  first  meal  in  the  cabin. 
With  a  salute  showing  that  he  had  re- 
ceived a  military  training,  he  said:  "I 
have  these  fellows  out  here  pretty  well 
in  hand  and  would  like  to  know  as  to 
what  you  want  sent." 

"Send  them  all  back  down  the  trail," 
says  Theodore,  blowing  his  hot  coffee 
with  modesty  and  reserve. 

The  Rough  Writer  gave  a  hitch  at  his 
trousers.  This  proved  that  he  had  been 
in  the  navy.  "That  won't  do,"  he  says. 
"We  have  been  sent  up  here  to  write,  and 
we've  got  to  write.  Such  are  our  in- 
structions. Would  you,  therefore,  mind 
making  out  a  programme  of  action,  and 
a  list  of  the  things  you  are  going  to  kill, 
giving  the  exact  number?  Our  instruc- 
tions enforce  exactness." 

This  pleased  Theodore,  and  accord- 
ingly he  scribbled  off  a  list  and  handed 
it  to  the  Rough  Writer,  who  took  it  with 
75 


THEODORE 

another  military  salute,  and  retired  in  a 
gentlemanly  manner. 

During  all  this  time  my  mind  had  not 
wandered  away  from  that  infernal  bear. 
Whenever  I  shut  my  eyes  I  could  see  the 
flaming  bunch  of  hair  on  his  remorseless 
breast.  Of  course  my  experience  taught 
me  that  his  exploits  and  his  prowess  had 
been  exaggerated,  as  are  nearly  all 
things  in  this  life,  but  even  the  grossest 
exaggeration  may  have  some  sort  of 
foundation,  and  it  was  the  foundation 
that  scared  me.  I  am  not  particularly 
afraid  of  a  man  or  a  woman.  Together 
with  four  other  plain-clothes  men  I  once 
arrested  Red  Moll,  alias  The  Dock  Rat, 
and  at  another  time  I  was  one  of  a  posse 
that  gobbled  up  Newsboy  Tim,  alias  the 
Weasel;  but  they  were  representatives, 
such  as  they  were,  of  the  human  family. 
As  I  understood  it,  old  Sir  Billy  had 
nothing  human  about  him. 
76 


THEODORE 

"Thinking  about  that  bear,  ain't  you?" 
says  Theodore,  shaking  out  his  blanket 
upon  the  floor. 

"It  is  upon  him  that  my  mind  is  at  this 
moment  resting,"  says  I,  in  choice  rhet- 
oric, to  the  shame  of  Prof.  Brander 
Matthews. 

"And  you  are  aching  for  an  oppor- 
tunity to  get  at  him,"  says  Theodore, 
winking  at  himself. 

"Your  honor,"  I  began,  but  Theodore 
told  me  not  to  talk  like  an  Irishman  just 
come  over.  "Don't  you  know,"  says 
our  hero,  "that  according  to  the  fattest 
personage  known  to  the  stage,  we,  or 
rather  you,  bringing  it  down  closer,  owe 
God  a  death?  Don't  you  know  that?" 

"Yes,  I  have  heard  of  it,  but  I'm  not 
indebted  to  any  bear  to  that  extent." 
This  pleased  Theodore,  and  getting  up, 
he  opened  the  door,  looked  out  and 
smiled  at  the  night.  When  he  returned 

77 


THEODORE 

to  his  blanket  he  was  calmer.  "Every 
man  ought  to  have  an  ambition,"  says 
he,  stretching  himself  out  and  looking 
every  inch  a  soldier,  "and  it  has  for  years 
been  my  ambition  to  kill  that  bear.  I 
was  about  to  organize  an  expedition 
against  him  when  the  Spanish  war  broke 
out  to  distract  my  attention  for  a  time, 
and  then  the  election;  but  during  the  lull 
after  the  storm  the  gnawings  of  my  old 
and  most  laudable  ambition  were  re- 
newed; then  my  mind  was  finally  made 
up.  I  am  grieved  to  learn  that  the  bear 
is  now  away  from  home." 

"He  must  have  heard  that  you  were 
coming,"  says  I;  and  Theodore  turned 
over  and  smiled  a  luminous  shadow  on 
the  wall. 

"When  detectives  flatter,  then  is  our 

speech  infested  with  niceties,"  he  says, 

turning  again  toward  me.     "But  don't 

be  frightened,"  he  saysi — "I  am  here." 

78 


THEODORE 

I  asked  him  if  he  would  mind  taking 
hold  of  my  hand  for  a  moment.  He  gen- 
erously accommodated  me,  without  a 
moment  of  hesitation,  and  thus  assured 
and  soothed,  I  dropped  off  to  sleep. 

The  morning  was  bright,  and  one  of 
the  Rough  Writers  declared  that  the  air 
was  as  full  of  sparkle  as  the  eye  of  a  Kan- 
sas City  belle.  This  grace  of  compari- 
son pleased  Theodore,  insomuch  that  he 
gave  the  man  a  smile,  and  rewarded  him 
further  with  a  chew  of  black  plug.  While 
we  were  making  ready,  a  lion  peered  at 
us  from  the  top  of  one  of  yonder  rocks. 
Theodore's  gun  was  not  handy,  but  with 
his  pistol  he  shot  the  lion  between  the 
eyes.  The  animal  sprang  high  into  the 
ambient  air,  and  as  a  pretty  stiff  breeze 
was  blowing,  sailed  over  and  fell  at  the 
feet  of  his  master.  And  then  the  Rough 
Writers  seized  their  pads  and  wrote; 
"The  day  dawned  clear  with  the  killing 
79 


THEODORE 

of  five  lions  with  one  shot."  In  order 
to  enforce  accuracy  upon  the  Rough 
Writers,  they  were  not  permitted  to  ac- 
company us  except  at  a  distance.  This 
was  wise,  for  the  reckless  pen  has  given 
Theodore  a  great  deal  of  annoyance. 
Just  before  we  started,  up  came  a  party 
of  men  stretching  a  telegraph  wire,  and 
within  a  few  moments  a  clicking  machine 
was  set  up  in  our  quarters.  This  was 
the  enterprise  of  the  newspapers.  And 
I  remember  that  afterward  I  saw  the  fol- 
lowing statement,  red-headed,  in  a  sheet 
known  for  the  swiftness  of  its  flight: 
"The  report  of  the  killing  of  the  last  lion 
by  the  Colonel  left  our  press  and  was  out 
on  the  street  thirty-eight  seconds  in  ad- 
vance of  any  other  publication." 

A  few  miles  further  up  the  gulch  we 

left  our  horses  and  proceeded  on  foot. 

The  Rough  Writers  were  far  in  the  rear 

at  the  time  we    dismounted,  and   soon 

80 


THEODORE 

they  were  lost  sight  of,  for  now  we  were 
not  compelled  to  keep  in  the  path.  But 
it  was  astonishing  how  far  we  could  go 
without  meeting  an  adventure.  Up  to 
noon  there  was  but  one  incident.  1  saw 
Theodore  seize  a  large  yellow  stick  and, 
with  the  quick  exercise  of  his  muscles, 
break  it  over  his  knee.  I  walked  along 
toward  him,  wondering  what  he  meant 
by  such  a  performance,  but  when  nearer 
I  discovered  that  what  I  had  taken  to  be 
a  stick  was  indeed  an  enormous  rattle- 
snake, frozen  stiff. 

"Just  think  what  his  surprise  will  be 
when  he  thaws  out,"  says  Theodore, 
again  taking  the  lead. 

The  afternoon  was  far  advanced,  and 
still  there  was  no  adventure.  We  found 
a  place  where  it  appeared  that  some 
dozen  of  men  had  rolled  a  hogshead  in 
the  snow,  but  with  rising  spirits  Theo- 
dore informed  me  that  the  imprints  had 
81 


THEODORE 

undoubtedly  been  caused  by  old  Sir  Billy 
at  play.  This  brought  my  trembling 
heart  into  my  mouth,  and  I  was  com- 
pelled to  breathe  through  my  nose  for 
fear  of  blowing  it  out  upon  the  cold 
ground.  Theodore  noticed  my  agita- 
tion. "Your  heart  is  weak,"  says  he. 

"Yes,  I  must  confess  it." 

"Why  don't  you  do  something  for  it?" 

"I  don't  know  what  to  do.  I  am  no 
physician." 

"That  is  not  necessary,"  says  Theo- 
dore. "There  was  a  time  when  a  man 
needed  a  doctor,  but  not  now.  Here, 
eat  a  lot  of  this." 

He  thrust  his  hand  into  his  bosom  and 
took  out  a  small  buckskin  bag.  I  opened 
it  and  found  that  it  contained  salt.  "The 
Chicago  University  has  discovered  that 
salt  is  all  there  is  to  life,"  says  he.  "Eat 
salt  and  the  drooping  heart  will  hold  up 
its  head." 

82 


THEODORE 

I  licked  up  a  handful  of  the  salt  and 
for  a  time  forgot  the  bear,  remembering 
only  that  I  wanted  water. 

At  last  to  my  great  delight  Theodore 
said  that  it  was  time  to  turn  back,  as  it 
would  be  dark  by  the  time  we  reached 
the  camp.  But  upon  turning  we  found 
that  we  were  lost.  This  sickened  me, 
for  I  had  my  warm  blanket  in  mind;  but 
Theodore  didn't  mind  it.  He  consoled 
me  with  this  reflection:  "A  man  is  more 
likely  to  come  upon  adventure  when  he's 
lost.  Don't  you  believe  so?" 

"I  am  afraid  it  is  a  fact,"  I  admitted, 
and  Theodore  told  me  that  I'd  better  eat 
more  salt.  Now  onward  rapidly  we 
strode,  down  toward  the  timber  line,  and 
reached  a  few  scrub  trees  just  as  the 
moon  came  up.  Farther  on  we  came  to 
a  large  tree  and  here  we  sat  down  to  rest 
and  to  eat  some  frozen  bread  and  salt. 
While  we  were  licking  our  cold  chops, 
83 


THEODORE 

there  came  a  low  howl  in  the  dis- 
tance. 

"What  is  that?"  says  I. 

"A  wolf,"  says  Theodore. 

Just  then  there  broke  out  the  worst 
howling  I  ever  heard.  Hagenback's 
was  a  mere  whispering  compared  with 
it.  "The  fun  has  begun,"  says  Theo- 
dore. "Let  us  climb  up  into  this  tree." 
And  we  did.  Theodore  was  usually  in 
the  lead,  but  I  beat  him  up  among  the 
gnaried  branches  of  the  tree,  and  none 
too  soon  was  either  of  us,  for  a  great  tor- 
rent of  wolves  came  pouring  down  the 
hill.  Amid  the  loud  and  ferocious  cries 
for  blood,  we  could  hear  their  sharp 
claws  rattling  over  the  rocks  with  as  cold 
a  sound  as  a  man  might  imagine.  "They 
can't  climb,  at  any  rate,"  says  Theodore, 
seating  himself  comfortably  upon  a  limb. 

"I  am  glad  we  have  a  moon.  Ah, 
now  the  fun  begins,"  and  with  that  we 
84 


THEODORE 

both  began  to  shoot.  I  am  not  much  of 
a  marksman,  but  here  direct  aim  did  not 
count,  for  all  we  had  to  do  was  to  choose 
direction,  vicinity,  I  might  say.  The 
wolves  kept  coming  and  we  kept  on 
pumping,  ceasing  only  to  let  our  guns 
cool  for  a  few  moments.  We  had 
brought  as  much  ammunition  as  we 
could  carry,  and  were  prepared  for  a  long 
campaign.  The  howling  was  frightful. 
It  was  almost  as  bright  as  day,  better 
than  day,  in  fact,  for  there  was  no  glare. 
One  of  the  wolves  we  noticed  was  a 
leader,  and  headed  many  a  charge 
against  us.  He  was  so  active  that  it  was 
almost  impossible  to  get  a  shot  at  him, 
but  Theodore  clipped  off  one  of  his  paws. 
This  made  no  decided  difference,  for  he 
rounded  up  his  forces  and  continued  to 
come  at  us  on  three  legs.  We  could  see 
that  his  lieutenants  were  urging  him  to 
retire,  but  he  shook  his  head,  howled  de- 
85 


THEODORE 

fiance,  and  again  sprang  to  the  attack. 

"Keep  the  base  of  operations  well  cov- 
ered," says  Theodore.  They  are  trying 
to  gnaw  us  down."  A  shudder  passed 
over  me.  They  had  ceased  their  efforts 
to  reach  us  by  leaping,  and  were  now  bit- 
ing at  the  tree.  As  soon  as  one  fell  he 
was  dragged  back,  and  another  took  his 
place.  They  were  under  marvelous  dis- 
cipline, which  convinces  me  that  the  art 
of  war  does  not  belong  to  the  higher  in- 
tellectual pursuits. 

"I  have  a  sort  of  respect  for  that  ras- 
cal," says  Theodore.  "He  has  ability  in 
his  line,  but  the  reward  of  ability  is  often 
death.  Listen  how  they  gnaw.  Be  a 
little  steadier.  It  is  necessary  to  aim 
now.  Ha!  I  was  trying  to  think  of  an 
old  tune  we  used  to  hum  out  on  the 
plains.  Isn't  it  astonishing  that  I  can't 
hit  the  captain?  Look,  his  lieutenants 
are  again  persuading  him  to  retire,  but 
86 


THEODORE 

he  won't.  See,  he  is  charging  up  over 
the  dead  bodies  of  his  men.  He  is  mak- 
ing a  San  Juan  hill  of  them.  Oh,  I  got 
him  then." 

The  wolf  commander  uttered  a  deep 
howl  and  fell  back,  shot,  as  well  as  I  could 
determine,  squarely  through  the  head. 
But  this  did  not  end  the  fight.  Indeed, 
it  was  but  the  beginning  as  we  afterward 
found  out.  Another  took  his  place,  a 
slim  and  active  fellow,  and  with  this  new 
blood,  the  attack  was  even  more  deter- 
mined. "He  dodges  like  a  hell  diver," 
says  Theodore,  "but  we'll  get  him  yet. 
How  are  you  enjoying  yourself?" 

"I  am  pretty  comfortable,  thank  you, 
but  I  am  beginning  to  get  a  little  tired." 

"Well,  lay  off  a  while  and  take  a  nap, 
and  you'll  do  better  work  when  you  wake 
up." 

This  was  kindness  itself,  but  I  could 
not,  under  the  circumstances,  avail  my- 
87 


THEODORE 

self  of  it.  At  this  moment  I  felt  the  tree 
sway  slightly,  and  in  the  brightness  of 
the  moonlight  I  saw  a  shadow  of  concern 
on  Theodore's  face.  The  enemy  had 
done  fearful  work  at  the  base  of  our  only 
protection.  "Pump  faster,"  says  Theo- 
dore. The  tree  grew  steadier,  and  I  be- 
gan to  believe  that  we  both  had  been 
mistaken,  when  it  was  discovered  that 
so  many  dead  bodies  were  packed  about 
the  trunk  of  the  tree  as  to  hold  it  firm. 
This  was  a  mistake  of  the  new  com- 
mander, and  doubtless  would  not  have 
occurred  had  the  other  captain  lived,  for 
his  orders  had  evidently  been  to  drag 
back  the  killed  and  wounded.  It  grew 
darker  for  a  time,  and  then  the  welcome 
streaks  of  coming  day  were  seen  in  the 
east.  "Ah,"  says  Theodore,  "we  get 
everything  good  from  the  East.  The 
West  could  not  have  served  us  so.  But 
pump  away,  for  we  ain't  done  yet.  Look! 
88 


THEODORE 

They  are  charging  up  over  the  dead. 
Now,  pump  for  your  life." 

When  the  daylight  became  broad 
we  could  see  just  a  trifle  of  move- 
ment in  the  suburbs  of  the  slain. 
The  long  fight  was  over,  and  now 
we  walked  down  from  the  tree  on 
a  stairway  of  dead  wolves.  But  what 
was  this  off  a  short  distance  to  the 
right?  The  representatives  of  the  enter- 
prising press  had  heard  the  firing,  and 
during  the  night  had  run  their  telegraph 
facilities  up  to  within  one  hundred  yards 
of  us.  As  we  approached,  the  machine 
was  ticking  gaily.  The  Rough  Writer  of 
whom  I  have  spoken,  one  T.  Ruth,  came 
forward  and,  saluting  Theodore,  re- 
marked, in  a  clear,  sunrise  voice: 
"Colonel,  you  have  given  us  a  hard 
night's  work,  but  that's  what  we  are  here 
for.  How  many  have  you  killed?" 

"I  don't  know,"  says  Theodore,  "till 
89 


THEODORE 

I  count  my  cartridges  and  strike  a 
balance." 

"Well,  no  matter,  for  the  news  has 
already  been  sent.  We  couldn't  wait." 

I  saw  the  account  not  long  afterward, 
and  am  free  to  say,  in  the  face  of  the 
fact  that  I  am  running  the  risk  of  antag- 
onizing the  most  powerful  pull  in  the 
country,  that  it  was  greatly  exaggerated. 
I  have  noticed  that  the  writers  of  pri- 
vate letters  are  usually  truthful,  poli- 
ticians excepted,  of  course,  but  that  as 
soon  as  a  man  begins  to  write  for  the 
public  he  is  impelled  to  overdraw.  I 
don't  know  why  this  is  so,  but  it  is. 
Should  truth  be  considered  dull  because 
it  is  simple?  Are  we  forever  to  go  on, 
striving  for  forced  effect?  I  knew  a 
newspaper  man  who  turned  theatrical 
manager,  and  even  then  he  occasionally 
let  his  love  of  exaggeration  crop  out  in 
his  writing,  for  one  night  when  requested 
90 


THEODORE 

to  write  a  pass  for  one  he  wrote,  "Admit 
fifty." 

As  we  were  now  both  hungry  and 
tired,  Theodore  proposed  that  we  should 
eat  a  bite  and  rest  a  few  moments 
before  resuming  our  search  for  old  Sir 
Billy.  I  told  him  that  we  ought  at  least 
to  rest  five  minutes,  hoping  that  this  sar- 
casm would  fetch  him,  but  it  was  lost. 
"Well,  four  and  a  half,  anyhow,"  says  he, 
and  my  hopes  dropped. 

It  was  easy  enough  to  climb  a 
tree  to  a  safe  retreat  from  wolves, 
and  we  might  get  out  of  the  way 
of  lions,  but  with  Sir  Billy  it  would 
be  different.  If  half  the  reports 
were  true,  he  could  pull  up  a  tree,  with 
us  in  it,  and  thrash  us  to  death  against 
the  ground. 

After  eating  some  hard  biscuit,  we  re- 
turned to  the  place  where  we  had  left 
the  horses,  and  found  them- — that  is,  the 
91 


THEODORE 

best  part  of  them.  Their  backs  had  been 
broken  and  their  hind  quarters  had  been 
carried  away,  high  up  ajnong  the  crags. 
What  cartridges  we  had  left  with  them 
were  chewed  up,  so  we  were  compelled 
to  go  back  to  camp,  and  for  this  Theo- 
dore began  to  offer  apology. 

"Don't  put  yourself  to  any  trouble  on 
my  account,"  says  I,  regretting  the  death 
of  the  horses,  but  immensely  tickled  at 
the  prospect  of  going  to  shelter. 

"It  was  that  bear,"  says  Theodore,  as 
we  stalked  along.  "But  don't  worry; 
we'll  find  him  yet." 


CHAPTER   VII 

AN   ANCIENT    CAVE    DWELLER. 

THEODORE  consented  to  rest  dur- 
ing the  remainder  of  the  day,  but 
the  next  morning  we  started  out 
with  a  cartridge  train  of  mules.    .For  a 
long  distance  the  Rough  Writers  kept 
well  up  with  us,  trailing  a  telegraph  wire, 
but  along  toward  noon  Theodore  warned 
them  off,  and  we  proceeded  in  peace, 
that  is,  Theodore  did;  but  I  was  troubled 
over  the  prospect  of  meeting  the  bear. 
And  I  was  resolved  that  upon  submitting 
my  report  to  the  agency,  if  ever  such 
report  were  to  be,  I  would  resign  rather 
than  go  out  on  another  such  detail.     I 
93 


THEODORE 

would  even  go  under  the  Twelfth  street 
viaduct,  in  Chicago- — go  at  night,  and 
alone — rather  than  risk  my  life  with  a 
man  who  had  refused  to  acknowledge  an 
acquaintance  with  danger.  Yet,  I  like 
sport.  I  have  amused  myself  for  days  at 
a  time  arresting  pickpockets  and  fash- 
ionable shoplifters  in  the  large  stores.  I 
am  not  lacking  in  a  sense  of  humor.  I 
have  laughed  heartily  at  seeing  a  well- 
dressed  woman  snatch  a  piece  of  watered 
silk  and  look  dry.  This  may  be  whim- 
sical, I  admit,  but  after  all,  it  shows  a 
keen  sense  of  the  ridiculous.  But  there 
is  nothing  ridiculous  in  looking  for  a 
bear  that  you  know  can  kill  you  in  the 
fortieth  part  of  a  second.  I  call  that 
suicide,  and  I  have  never  found  any  fun 
in  suicide.  Understand,  I  am  offer- 
ing these  reflections  not  for  the  phil- 
osopher, but  for  the  boy  who  is  to 
be  kidnaped.  To  be  ful'y  developed,  he 

94 


THEODORE 

must  learn  the  methods  of  the  detective- 
story  writer,  as  I  have  before  observed.  • 

Now  we  were  high  up  where  there 
was  not  a  sprig  of  timber.  The  snow  was 
deep  and  the  air  was  benumbing,  but  on 
we  strode,  Theodore  being  as  insensible 
to  cold  as  to  danger.  He  found  the  old 
tune  that  he  had  known  out  West,  and 
he  went  along  humming  it,  greatly  to 
his  satisfaction,  but  not  to  mine,  for  I 
am  fond  of  music.  I  have  sat  for  hours 
under  the  spell  of  the  opera,  brought 
us  from  the  East;  and  I  might  have  been 
still  sitting  there  if  the  usher  hadn't 
shaken  me  and  informed  me  that  it  was 
time  to  go. 

Suddenly  Theodore  halted  in  front  of 
a  cave.  I  drew  back  in  alarm,  but  he 
told  me  to  be  of  good  cheer,  for  the 
tracks  in  the  snow  were  the  tracks  of  a 
man.  "Let  us  enter,"  says  he,  and  I  fol- 
lowed him  in.  For  a  time  we  could  see 
96 


THEODORE 

nothing,  and  I  received  several  sharp 
bumps  against  the  rugged  wall,  but  after 
a  while  we  got  along  better.  "Are  you 
sure  old  Sir  Billy  ain't  in  here?"  says  I, 
and  my  blood  ran  cold  when  he  replied: 
"I  am  sure  I  hope  so."  I  got  behind 
him,  at  this  intelligence,  and  walked 
slowly  along  to  my  death.  Suddenly, 
upon  turning  a  corner,  our  eyes  were 
astonished  by  the  sight  of  a  fire.  And 
near  it  a  man  sat  on  a  rock.  "An  ancient 
cave  dweller,"  murmured  Theodore,  and 
I  took  heart,  for  I  am  not  afraid  of  cave 
dwellers.  It  was  well  said  that  he  was 
ancient,  for  the  man  seemed  to  have  lived 
in  years  too  remote  for  history. 

"Good  day,"  says  Theodore. 

"Sit   down,"   says  the   cave   dweller, 
moving  over  a  bit. 

"Fine  weather,"  says  Theodore. 

"I  don't  know,  but  I  infer  as  much," 
says  the  cave  dweller. 
96 


THEODORE 

Then  we  all  dropped  into  pleasant  con- 
versation. Theodore  asked  our  host  if 
he  knew  anything  about  the  bear,  and 
he  shook  his  head.  "I  am  not  here  to 
think  about  bears,"  says  he,  "but  to 
grieve  over  the  mistakes  of  my  country. 
I  have  done  my  best  in  my  official  acts 
and  with  my  advice,  but  the  country  is 
bent  upon  going  to  the  dogs." 

"Anything  particular  eating  you 
now?"  says  Theodore,  and  the  old  man 
sighed  until  the  cave  echoed  as  with  a 
sad  and  hollow-sounding  wind.  "Yes," 
says  he,  "the  Philippine  question.  I  have 
warned  the  President,  but  to  no  purpose." 

"Would  you  mind  telling  me  your 
name?"  says  Theodore. 

The  old  man  looked  downcast  and  re- 
plied: "I  am  Benjamin  Harrison." 

"I  believe  I  have  heard  of  you,"  says 
Theodore.     "You  were  once  President 
of  the  United  States?" 
97 


THEODORE 

"Yes,  once.    You  have  well  said." 

"But  what  are  you  doing  up  here? 
Where  is  your  gun?" 

"Gun,"  sniffed  the  old  man,  con- 
temptuously; "I  want  no  gun.  I  am  a 
statesman,  and  I  want  to  tell  you  that 
the  President  is  wrong." 

"What  about  Grover  Cleveland?" 

"Ah,  he  is  another  statesman." 

"But  he  handles  a  gun." 

"Ah,  but  when  he  does,  just  at  that 
time  he  is  not  a  statesman.  He  is  a 
statesman  when  he  objects  to  what  has 
been  done." 

"Then,  if  I  understand  you,  the  essen- 
tial part  of  statesmanship  lies  in  objec- 
tions." 

"Ah,  almost  the  whole  of  it." 

"And  what  are  you  going  to  do  when 
you  leave  here?" 

"I  am  here,  as  I  tell  you,  to  muse  over 


THEODORE 

the  wrongs  of  my  country,  and  then  I 
will  go  out  and  air  them." 

"But,  if  I  remember  rightly,  you  don't 
come  out  squarely  and  say  what  you 
mean." 

"Sir,"  says  the  cave  dweller,  "the  es- 
sence of  statesmanship  is  insinuation. 
Come,  tell  me  what  has  been  done  within 
the  past  few  days  that  I  may  give  vent 
to  appropriate  grief." 

"Well,"  says  Theodore,  giving  me  a 
wink,  "the  Philippine  war  is  over." 

"Over  what?" 

"Over  the  Pacific,"  says  Theodore, 
scoring  one  on  the  disgruntled  states- 
man. 

"That,  sir,  is  frivolity,"  says  he.  "I  am 
here  to  be  earnest.  And  if  I  could  only 
get  Mr.  Cleveland  to  come  here  and  rub 
heads  with  me  I  think  we  could  make 
the  entire  country  feel  sad  and  humili- 
ated. But  your  face  is  familiar." 

99 


THEODORE 

"That's  what  the  Spaniards  admitted," 
says  Theodore,  scoring  another  on  the 
statesman. 

"Ah,  I  know  you  now.  They  tell  me, 
sir,  that  you  had  an  exciting  campaign. 
I  don't  know  myself,  for  I  was  up  here 
in  my  cave  the  most  of  the  time." 

"It  was  not  wanting  in  life,"  says 
Theodore.  "They  kept  me  on  the  dodge 
most  of  the  time." 

"And  what  are  you  doing  up  here 
now?" 

"Well,  being  satisfied  with  my  coun- 
try, I  thought  I'd  come  up  here  and  kill 
a  few  things." 

"Sir,  what  you  should  assist  in  killing 
are  the  measures  which  are  now  being 
introduced  in  Congress.  Army  and 
navy,  indeed!  Why,  in  my  grandfather's 
time  a  fleet  of  canoes  was  navy  enough." 

"But  we  ain't  living  in  your  grand- 
father's days." 

100 


THEODORE 

"And  so  much  the  worse  for  the  coun- 
try, sir.  Then  the  country  was  forging 
ahead,  but  now  it  is  going  backward  like 
a  crayfish." 

"I  know  what  a  crawfish  is,"  says 
Theodore,  "and  when  you  spring  a  cray- 
fish on  me  I  don't  wonder  that  you  were 
President — once.  But  how  long  do  you 
think  it  will  take  you  to  get  full  of  grief 
this  time?" 

"I  am  filling  up  fast.  I  am,  as  you 
must  know,  a  man  of  resources,  and  I 
shall  soon  pump  myself  full  enough  to 
appear  before  the  public  again." 

"Won't  you  come  out  with  us  and  let 
the  sun  shine  on  you?" 

"No,  sir,  I  do  not  want  to  see  the  sun 
again  for  some  time.  Let  me  muse  here 
alone.  Leave  me.  You  shall  hear  from 
me." 

"I  shall  do  so  with  pleasure.  One 
word  more.  I  suppose  you  come  here 
101 


THEODORE 

to  forget  as  well  as  to  fill  your  tank  with 
grief?" 

"Ah,  yes,  to  forget." 

"Yes,"  says  Theodore,  "and  the  more 
you  forget  the  oftener  we  shall  hear  from 
you,"  thereby  scoring  the  third  one  on 
the  haughty  statesman. 


102 


CHAPTER   VIII 
AN   OLD   MAID'S   CONVENTION 

44\/OU  will  observe,"  says  Theo- 
I  dore,  as  we  stalked  on  further 
into  the  echoing  defiles,  "that 
these  mountains  are  the  resort  of  discon- 
tent as  well  as  of  adventure.  It  is  not 
generally  known,  but  thousands  of  re- 
forms are  rehearsed  up  here  under  these 
rocks,  away  from  the  prying  eyes  of  the 
public,  and  are  afterward  taken  down  to 
stir  up  politics  and  society.  But,  in  the 
meantime,  I  wish  we  could  find  old  Sir 
Billy." 

"Don't  you  think  we  are  likely  to  find 
him  soon  enough?"  I  ventured  to  re- 
mark. 103 


THEODORE 

"Yes,  soon  enough  for  you,"  says 
Theodore,  with  a  small  output  of  his 
great  stock  of  sarcasm ;  and  I  walked  on 
in  silence,  knowing  that  any  time  suit- 
able to  his  pleasure  he  could  score  one 
on  me. 

It  was  plain  that  we  were  now  lost 
again,  but  Theodore  said  it  made  no  dif- 
ference, as  the  Rough  Writers  were 
likely  to  find  us  with  their  telegraph  line, 
and  I  looked  at  him  in  admiration. 
Never  had  I  seen  a  man  of  such  obser- 
vation, and  I  am  acquainted  with  obser- 
vant men.  I  know  Chief  Kipley,  of  Chi- 
cago, the  keen-eyed,  who,  at  a  moment's 
notice,  can  throw  up  his  head,  sniff  the 
air,  and  discover  that  there  is  no  gamb- 
ling going  on  in  his  city.  I  also  know 
Mr.  Harrison,  the  Mayor,  who  discovers 
the  fact  that  Chicago  is  not  a  mecca  for 
the  tramps  of  the  country.  All  this 
knowledge  intensified  my  admiration  for 
104 


THEODORE 

Theodore.  How  wonderful  is  the  fac- 
ulty of  observation!  It  is  the  basis  of 
all  learning,  since  from  an  application  of 
it  we  are  able  to  draw  the  two  schools  of 
philosophy — inductive  and  deductive — 
and  to  set  them  fighting  like  two 
roosters. 

All  of  a  sudden  Theodore  halted  and 
stood  listening,  and  my  heart  fluttered, 
for  I  was  afraid  that  he  was  receiving  a 
communication  from  the  famous  grizzly. 
"I  can't  make  out  what  that  is,"  says  he, 
to  my  great  relief.  "If  it  were  not  so  dis- 
cordant I  should  take  it  for  a  flock  of 
blackbirds.  Listen." 

By  this  time  a  fluttering  and  a  sort  of 
chirruping  became  audible  to  me,  and  I 
listened  with  pleasure,  for  my  fears  were 
at  rest  concerning  the  bear.  "It  seems 
to  come  from  some  sort  of  cave  or  shel- 
ter," says  Theodore,  striding  forward. 
The  noise  seemed  to  draw  nearer, 
105 


THEODORE 

and  presently,  rounding  a  rock,  \ve 
came  to  a  natural  amphitheatre,  which 
looked  as  if  it  had  been  cut  out  of 
the  solid  rock.  But  this  was  not  all. 
Seated  almost  in  a  complete  circle 
were  a  number  of  oldish  women,  all 
talking  at  once.  Theodore,  who,  by 
this  time,  you  must  know,  is  not  afraid 
of  man,  woman  or  beast,  strode  up,  and 
with  a  bow,  says,  says  he:  "What's  your 
lay?" 

Hereupon  there  was  a  hush  of  the 
chatter,  and  a  woman  came  forward  to 
greet  us.  Her  face,  festooned  with  smiles, 
was  not  unpleasant,  and  Theodore  had 
no  hesitation  in  asking  questions. 

"Do  you  wish  to  know  why  we  are 
here?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  says  Theodore,  "for  I  am  not 
quite  onto  your  game." 

The  woman  smiled  and  said  that  she 
thanked  him  for  his  impulsive  gallantry. 
106 


THEODORE 

This  pleased  Theodore,  and  he  smiled  at 
her.  "We  are,"  says  she,  "preparing 
ourselves  to  dominate  a  convention  of 
mothers  to  be  held  in  Chicago  along  in 
the  spring." 

"A  most  praiseworthy  preparation," 
says  Theodore.  Just  here  the  magpie 
chatter  was  resumed,  and  the  woman 
who  was  talking  to  us,  evidently  the 
chairman  of  the  meeting,  turned  round 
and  commanded  silence.  "I  won't  hush," 
squealed  a  short-haired  creature,  snap- 
ping viciously.  "If  you  want  anybody 
to  hush  shut  up  yourself." 

"And  don't  you  dare  tell  me  to  hush 
because  a  man  happens  to  come  along," 
cried  out  another  woman  with  pale  curls. 
And  with  that  they  all  fell  to  talking, 
and  it  was  some  time  before  the  presi- 
dent could  resume  her  conversation  with 
Theodore.  But  at  last,  while  a  commit- 
tee of  the  whole  was  drafting  resolutions, 
107 


THEODORE 

each  woman  writing  out  a  set  to  suit  her- 
self, the  chairman  proceeded  to  en- 
lighten us.  "Mother  conventions  have 
accomplished  so  much  in  the  past  that 
we  regarded  it  as  our  duty  to  take  the 
matter  in  hand." 

"You  are  all  mothers,  I  presume," 
says  Theodore,  and  the  woman  frowned 
at  him.  "You  do  presume,  indeed,  sir," 
she  says,  says  she.  "Do  you  suppose  that 
in  the  past  we  have  wasted  our  time 
merely  with  being  mothers?  We  have 
had  higher  duties  to  fulfill.  Mothers, 
indeed !  Why,  neither  one  of  us  has  been 
married." 

"All  old  maids,"  says  Theodore. 

"Yes,  if  you  insist  upon  putting  it  that 
way.  But  who  else  can  claim  the  right 
to  instruct  mothers?  Mothers  haven't 
had  time  to  learn  the  essential  requisites 
— they  have  been  so  tied  down  that  they 
don't  know  how  to  bring  up  children, 
1 08 


THEODORE 

while  we  have  given  years  and  years  of 
study  to  the  subject.  Why,  we  make  it 
a  rule  to  write  a  paper  every  two  months, 
thus  preparing  ourselves  to  settle  all 
questions  of  motherhood. 

"Don't  you  admit  a  married  woman 
to  your  order?" 

"Well,  yes,  if  she  has  not  been  so 
indiscreet  as  to  become  a  mother.  But 
we  would  rather  have  young  girls  or,  as 
you  term  them,  old  maids.  You  can 
teach  a  young  girl  so  much,  and  it  is 
always  so  encouraging  to  get  hold  of  a 
new  and  pliable  subject.  Ah,  the  women 
of  Colorado  have  set  the  world  a  great 
example." 

"Particularly  in  a  political  way,"  says 
Theodore. 

The  woman  nibbled  at  her  pencil,  eager 
to  get  at  a  set  of  resolutions  herself,  but 
being  a  perfect  lady,  she  did  not  other- 
wise betray  her  impatience.  "Yes,"  she 
109 


THEODORE 

says,  "the  women  of  Colorado  are  now 
the  greatest  in  the  world.  We  have 
emancipated  married  women.  We  have 
made  officeseekers  polite  to  their  wives, 
even  in  private." 

"And,  if  I  understand  it,  women  hold 
office." 

"Why,  of  course,"  she  says,  in  sur- 
prise. 

"Are  there  any  women  policemen?" 
says  Theodore,  managing  to  wink  at  me. 

"Well,  we  had  one  in  Denver — a  very 
upright,  efficient  and  pretty  woman. 
And  she  did  her  work  well,  giving  entire 
satisfaction,  but  one  day  two  tramps 
came  along  and  kissed  her,  and  she  re- 
signed." 

"That  was  unfortunate.  Do  you 
serve  on  juries?" 

"Well,  we  have  done  so,  but  dissatis- 
factions have  arisen.  The  wife  of  a 
grocer  in  Denver  was  summoned  as  a 
no 


THEODORE 

juryman — jurywoman,  I  should  say — 
and  the  case  took  longer  than  was  ex- 
pected. In  fact,  the  jury  was  what  they 
call  hung,  though  why,  .goodness  only 
knows;  and  the  judge  had  them  shut  up. 
The  grocer  was  detained  at  his  business 
until  a  late  hour,  and  when  he  went  home 
he  naturally  asked  for  his  wife,  and  was 
told  that  she  was  shut  up  with  the  jury. 
He  went  down  to  the  court  house, 
knocked  down  the  door,  and  told  her  to 
come  home.  She  was  crying  at  the  time, 
for  the  verdict  was  not  going  her  way, 
but  she  left  the  jury  room  with  a  parting 
word  or  two,  in  which  she  called  an  Irish- 
man and  a  lobster-looking  Swede  hate- 
ful things,  and  marched  out  triumph- 
antly with  her  lord,  but  not  her  master 
— no,  sir-ee!  not  her  master.  The  law 
ought  to  have  taken  this  house-breaker 
in  hand,  but  it  didn't.  The  men  laughed, 
and  that  was  all  there  was  to  it;  and, 
in 


THEODORE 

would  you  believe  it,  that  good-for-noth- 
ing judge  laughed,  too.  I  wonder  how 
they  are  getting  along  back  there,"  she 
says,  looking  round  at  the  resolutionists. 
"I  suppose  they  are  all  trying  to  insert 
a  new  clause  in  our  constitution.  But 
is  it  clause  or  claw?" 

Theodore  said  that,  from  his  experi- 
ence with  conventions,  it  was  as  often 
claw  as  clause.  "Then  they  are  inter- 
changeable terms,"  says  she.  "I  thought 
so,  and  I  remarked  as  much  to  Miss  Lily, 
who  took  it  in  good  part,  but  Miss  Pearl 
objected  and  Miss  Maud  took  her  bon- 
net and  vowed  that  if  such  were  the  case 
she  would  go  home.  But  see,  they  are 
about  ready  with  their  resolutions. 
Won't  you  gentlemen  come  forward  and 
sit  down?" 

We  went  forward  and  sat  down,  but 
not  in  the  circle,  for  that  was  a  privilege 
accorded  to  no  man  but  a  bachelor,  to 

112 


THEODORE 

which  state  neither  of  us  could  lay  claim 
without  falsifying  his  word.  The  presi- 
dent stood  near  and  gave  us  much  infor- 
mation concerning  the  habits,  usages, 
personality  and  general  disposition  of  the 
women  who  got  up  to  read  their  papers. 
And,  in  a  condensed  form,  this  is  about 
what  she  said:  "That  one  is  Miss  Hor- 
tense  Bone.  She  is  as  spiteful  as  a  set- 
ting hen,  and  she  wears  her  hat  in  a 
shocking  manner.  I  have  heard,  but  of 
course  I  don't  vouch  for  the  truth  of  it, 
that  at  one  time  she  eloped  with  a  min- 
ister and  was  caught  at  the  railway  sta- 
tion by  the  minister's  wife,  who  forgave 
her  husband,  but  wouldn't  speak  to  Miss 
Hortense  again,  and  it  served  her  right. 
See  that  one  reaching  for  the  hair  of  Miss 
Hortense — there,  they  have  separated 
them!  Well,  she  is  Miss  Consuela 
Duggs.  I  have  known  her  a  long 
time,  and  she  has  many  charming  traits 
"3 


THEODORE 

of  character.  They  got  her  mixed  up  in 
a  little  scandal  out  in  Deadwood,  but  she 
says  she  wasn't  guilty.  She  says  so,  mind 
you.  And  it  is  not  for  me  to  say  that 
she  was.  That  one  there  with  her  hands 
on  her  hips,  gazing  defiance,  is  Miss 
Honeysuckle  Butts.  And  she  is  so  sweet- 
tempered.  I  wish  you  could  know  her. 
And  she's  so  charitable,  too." 

"Any  scandal?"  says  Theodore. 

"Now,  who  told  you?  Hush,  don't 
you  say  a  word  about  it." 

"Look!"  Theodore  cried,  pointing  up- 
ward, and  there,  as  I  am  alive — there, 
standing  on  a  rock,  was  old  Sir  Billy, 
his  bunch  of  red  hair  flaming.  We  had 
left  our  guns  at  the  outskirts  of  the 
meeting,  and  it  was  evident  that,  with 
one  leap,  the  bear  could  cut  us  out  of 
them.  But  would  he?  My  heart  was  in 
my  mouth,  and  Theodore  turned  pale. 
The  bear  stood  with  his  great  mouth 
114 


THEODORE 

open,  but  suddenly,  catching  sight  of  the 
convention,  which  seemed  to  have  es- 
caped his  notice  for  a  moment,  he  uttered 
a  distressing  grunt  and  took  to  his  heels. 
We  ran  to  the  top  of  the  rocks  to  watch 
him,  and  for  a  long  distance  there  was 
a  clean  sweep,  but  the  bear  jumped  all 
the  way  across  it,  without  looking  back, 
and  disappeared  over  the  mountain. 

"Let  us  go,"  says  Theodore,  in  a  sad 
tone  of  voice.  We  bowed  to  the  conven- 
tion and  took  our  leave,  taking  up  our 
guns  and  pursuing  the  course  which  Sir 
Billy  had  taken.  It  was  a  long  time  be- 
fore Theodore  said  a  word,  but  he  sighed 
repeatedly.  "I  don't  blame  him,"  says 
he. 

The  afternoon  was  far  spent  when  we 
reached  the  crest  behind  which  the  bear 
had  disappeared,  and  there  was  a  great 
rock  torn  loose  from  the  hard  soil,  and 
all  down  the  mountain  side  we  saw  the 
"5 


THEODORE 

evidences  of  his  precipitous  flight.  But 
darkness  was  coming  and  we  deemed  it 
best  to  retrace  our  steps  to  the  place 
where  we  had  left  our  mules,  which  \ve 
did,  finding  them  safe,  with  a  telegraph 
wire  strung  about  them.  The  Rough 
Writers  were  sitting  there  waiting  for  us 
with  a  telegraphic  instrument  faintly 
ticking  on  a  mule's  back.  I  am  now 
about  to  relate  an  adventure  which  has 
not  been  reported  by  the  press. 


116 


CHAPTER   IX 

KIDNAPPED 

THE  next  morning  we  loaded  our- 
selves down  with  cartridges  and 
started  out  on  foot,  choosing  a 
rugged  pathway  over  the  mountains  and 
dodging  here  and  there  to  throw  the 
Rough  Writers  off  the  scent,  as  their 
wandering  telegraph  facilities  frightened 
the  game  and  drove  the  lions  to  cover. 
"I  am  a  great  believer  in  the  press,"  says 
Theodore,  as  we  humped  along,  "but  I 
don't  think  that  the  young  men  who  rep- 
resent it  should  usurp  a  license  when 
allowed  a  liberty.  I  am  certain  that  Sir 
Billy  is  as  much  afraid  of  a  telegraph  wire 
as  he  is  of  an  old  maid's  convention." 
117 


THEODORE 

All  of  a  sudden  my  blood  began  to 
freeze  even  before  my  eyes  discovered  the 
source  of  impending  danger.  A  large 
lion  leaped  directly  at  us  from  a  high 
rock.  But  Theodore,  with  scarcely  a 
break  in  his  interesting  talk,  whipped  out 
his  knife,  held  it  up  and  permitted  the 
sailing  beast  to  split  himself  from  lip  to 
tail.  It  was  the  most  graceful  piece  of 
work  I  ever  saw.  The  lion  fell  spread 
out  flat,  like  a  tiger  rug,  and  Theodore, 
looking  on  with  a  smile,  observed  in  his 
sweetly  modulated  tones:  "How  hand- 
somely he  would  set  off  a  corner  in  a  club 
room.  But  we  have  no  time  to  stand 
here  viewing  our  handiwork.  Yonder 
comes  a  mule  with  a  telegraph  office  on 
his  back.  If  we  could  only  induce  the 
Rough  Writers  not  to  engage  in  such 
exaggeration  I  should  feel  more  comfort- 
able. Come,  we  must  dodge." 

He  ran  like  a  deer,  and  I  followed  him 
118 


A  LARGE  LION  LEAPED 

DIRECTLY  AT  US.       Page  IlS 


THEODORE 

as  best  I  could,  and  soon  all  evidences 
of  the  press  were  left  far  in  the  zig-zag 
rear.  But  in  our  flight  we  threw  away 
our  provisions,  to  enable  us  better  to 
carry  the  ammunition,  and  along  toward 
noontime  we  became  painfully  conscious 
of  having  nothing  to  eat.  But  Theodore 
was  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  any  emer- 
gency. With  his  rifle  he  brought  an 
eagle  down  from  a  snow  cloud,  and  I 
must  acknowledge  that  with  a  little  salt 
it  was  not  bad.  Theodore  said  that  it 
beat  embalmed  beef,  and  I  had  eaten  at 
the  restaurants,  set  up  in  the  big  stores, 
too  often  to  complain.  Just  after  dinner 
we  came  upon  a  drove  of  lions,  and  we 
gave  our  right  arms  good  exercise  with 
pumping  lead  into  them.  I  would  have 
enumerated  the  result,  but  Theodore 
said  we  hadn't  time,  so  we  pushed  for- 
ward into  the  neighborhood  which  old 
Sir  Billy  had  claimed  for  his  own.  But 
119 


THEODORE 

we  found  no  trace  of  him,  except  a  rock 
loosened  here  and  there.  Along  about 
four  o'clock  we  heard  the  scream  of  a 
panther,  and  as  we  had  killed  none  of 
that  species,  and  especially  as  it  was  rare 
to  find  one  so  high  up  among  the  moun- 
tains, Theodore  said  we  must  have  him, 
so  onward  we  strode,  following  the 
blood-curdling  outcries.  At  last  we 
seemed  to  draw  near  the  sounds,  and 
then,  suddenly,  in  a  level  place,  we  came 
upon  a  low  hut  built  strongly  of  huge 
logs.  The  cry  now  seemed  to  come  from 
the  interior  of  the  hut,  and  we  stooped 
down  and  peered  in  at  the  doorway. 
"This  is  a  strange  place,"  says  Theodore. 
"Come  on,  we'll  go  in." 

"Do  you  think  it  safe?"  says  I,  en- 
deavoring to  restrain  him. 

"Sir,"  says  he,  "I  don't  know  what  you 
mean  by  safe.  Follow  me." 

There  was  no  hanging  back  after  that, 

120 


THEODORE 

and  I  followed  him;  but  no  sooner  had 
we  entered  than  a  door  fell  behind  us, 
startling  me  with  its  noise.  Turning 
about  I  saw  in  an  instant  that  we  had 
been  caught  in  a  trap,  baited  with  the 
screams  of  a  panther.  And  Theodore  ^ 
realized  it,  too,  for  he  sprang  at  the  door 
and  strove  to  break  it  down,  but  it  re- 
sisted all  his  efforts,  as  indeed  it  would 
have  withstood  the  strength  of  a  dozen 
men,  made  as  it  was  of  heavy  oak, 
studded  with  iron  nails.  There  was  one 
small  window,  about  six  inches  square, 
cut  for  the  admission  of  air,  and  against 
the  wall  there  was  a  rude  bench,  which 
was  the  only  furniture.  But  what  was 
this  over  in  a  corner,  that  gradually  be- 
came lighter  as  we  gazed  into  it?  A  jug 
of  water  and  three  loaves  of  bread. 

"I  can't  understand  this,"  says  Theo- 
dore, stamping  upon  the  frozen  earth 
floor.  "Climb  up  to  that  window  and 

121 


THEODORE 

shout  for  telegraph  facilities."  I  did  so, 
shouting  till  I  was  hoarse,  but  there 
came  no  wire  to  relieve  our  distress.  And 
it  was  distress,  I  can  assure  you,  gentle 
reader.  This  is  the  first  time  that  I  have 
called  you  a  gentle  reader,  if  you  are, 
and  I  desire  you  to  remember  that  fact. 

"I  have  been  in  many  a  box,"  says 
Theodore,  "but  this  beats  all.  I  wish 
we  had  that  telegraph  office.  Have  you 
any  idea  as  to  why  we  are  caught  thus?" 
he  says,  giving  me  a  hard  look. 

"Why  should  I  know?  I  am  a  detec- 
tive." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  says  Theodore, 
bowing  courteously.  Hereupon  we  sat 
down  on  the  bench,  ate  a  loaf  of  bread, 
which  our  hero  generously  divided,  and 
refreshed  ourselves  with  water  from  the 
jug.  "Whoever  keeps  house  here  knows 
what  good  water  is,"  says  Theodore, 
taking  another  pull  at  the  jug.  "But  I 

122 


THEODORE 

should  like  to  understand  why  I  am  in 
this  trap.  And  it  is  a  trap,  the  strongest 
one  I  ever  saw." 

"Do  you  think,  sir,"  says  I,  "that  it 
was  arranged  and  set  by  old  Sir 
Billy?" 

Theodore's  eyes  brightened  for  a 
moment.  Then,  with  an  expression  of 
disappointment,  he  said:  "No;  impos- 
sible. He  is  a  wonderful  animal,  the 
very  statesman  of  bears,  but  he  could  not 
have  done  this.  I  give  you  credit,  how- 
ever, for  thinking  of  the  scheme.  It  is 
worthy  of  the  keenest  detective  in  the 
country.  But  how  dark  it  is  growing.  I 
wish  we  had  a  light." 

At  that  moment  something  came 
through  the  window — a  wire-rimmed 
lantern,  and  it  fell  at  Theodore's  feet.  He 
took  it  up,  lighted  it  and  hung  it  on  the 
wall.  "Now,  what  do  you  understand 
by  this?"  says  he. 

123 


THEODORE 

"I  am  further  and  further  at  a  loss," 
says  I. 

"Ah,  truly,  a  detective-like  predica- 
ment," says  he.  "But  what's  this?" 

It  was  an  afternoon  newspaper,  and  it 
came  fluttering  through  the  little  win- 
dow, almost  damp  from  the  press. 
"We're  all  right,"  says  Theodore.  "The 
Rough  Writers  will  soon  be  here." 

But  they  did  not  come.  We  sat  there, 
reading  exaggerated  accounts  of  Theo- 
dore's exploits.  And  we  learned  much 
that  was  going  on  in  the  world;  that 
Chauncey  Depew  was  indisposed;  that 
his  physician  had  prescribed  mutton 
broth  and  a  speech;  that  a  New 
York  woman,  after  long  persuasion, 
had  consented  at  last  to  have  her  dog 
photographed;  that  the  President  had 
congratulated  Edward  VII.  on  the 
successful  termination  of  his  mother's 
reign;  that  in  consequence  of  the  visit 
124 


THEODORE 

of  the  Emperor  to  Osborne  House 
the  English  were  about  to  forgive 
the  Germans  for  making  knives;  that 
Mrs.  Lease  had  withdrawn  divorce  pro- 
ceedings and  had  decided  to  try  the  old 
man  a  few  more  falls;  that  tallow  candles 
were  likely  to  take  the  place  of  fraudu- 
lent gas  in  Chicago;  that  John  Tanner 
had  decided  not  to  be  Senator  from  Illi- 
nois; that  Jeanette  Gilder  was  still  writ- 
ing her  paid  puffs;  that  F.  Hopkinson 
Smith  had  sniffed  at  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin; 
that  this  particular  newspaper  was  the 
best  on  earth,  and  that  Hamlin  Garland 
was  considering  whether  or  not  he  could 
afford  the  time  to  write  the  great  Ameri- 
can novel.  This  was  all  interesting 
enough,  but  what  we  wanted  to  know 
was  why  we  were  there.  Who  threw  the 
lantern  and  the  paper?  One  of  the 
Rough  Writers, of  course;  but  why  didn't 
he  say  something?  Why  didn't  he  take 
125 


THEODORE 

steps  to  liberate  us?  Theodore  swore 
that  he  would  dig  himself  out,  and  he 
went  to  work  \vith  his  knife,  but  soon 
broke  it  off  in  the  frozen  ground.  At 
last  he  put  out  his  lantern  and  said  it 
was  time  to  go  to  bed,  which  we  did, 
and  slept  soundly  till  morning.  The  sun 
shone  in  at  our  little  window,  and  this 
brought  us  good  cheer  for  a  time,  but 
that  was  all,  for  no  relief  expedition  had 
reached  us.  After  we  had  breakfasted  on 
another  loaf  of  bread  we  sat  down,  for 
there  was  nothing  else  to  be  done,  but 
the  investigative  mind  of  Theodore,  re- 
fusing to  rest,  was  constantly  at  work  to 
solve  the  problem  of  our  imprisonment. 
There  never  was  a  time  when  I  was  more 
anxious  to  help  a  man  out  of  a  difficulty, 
but,  like  himself,  I  was  powerless.  Our 
only  hope  was  the  Rough  Writers,  and 
it  was  for  them  that  we  were  waiting. 
Suddenly  there  came  a  tapping  on  the 
126 


THEODORE 

» 

wall  outside,  and  we  leaped  to  our  feet. 
A  rescue  was  at  hand. 

"Open  the  door,"  says  Theodore. 

"Not  much,  Mary  Ann,"  came  from 
without. 

"Who  are  you?"  Theodore  demanded. 

"Oh,  you  know  me.  I  am  the  chief 
of  the  Omaha  kidnapers,  and  I've  got 
you  safe  enough." 

"Kidnapers,  indeed,"  quoth  Theodore, 
his  anger  rising.  "But  here,  I  am  no 
kid." 

"You  are,  for  all  my  intents  and  pur- 
poses. I  have  been  on  your  track  for 
some  time,  and  now  I  have  you.  Your 
release  will  cost  four  hundred  thousand 
dollars  in  gold.  If  you  were  Mr.  Bryan 
I  would  take  silver,  charging,  of  course, 
double  the  amount,  but  as  it  is  you  I 
must  have  gold,  and  no  compromise." 

"This  is  an  outrage!"  Theodore 
shouted. 

127 


THEODORE 

"I  am  pleased  to  hear  you  admit  it. 
Are  you  ready  to  write  a  request  for  the 
amount  to  the  President  at  Washington, 
or  to  Congress?  It  makes  no  differ- 
ence." 

"Never!"  exclaimed  Theodore,  with 
determined  expansion  of  chest. 

"All  right;  then  make  yourself  as  com- 
fortable as  you  can  under  the  circum- 
stances." 

"Come  round  where  I  can  get  a  shot 
at  you,"  says  Theodore,  in  his  most  per- 
suasive accents. 

"No,  I  believe  not,  this  morning. 
Whenever  you  need  more  water  throw 
out  your  jug.  I  will  see  that  you  are 
supplied  with  bread.  Don't  forget  to 
wind  your  watch,  and  if  you  desire  it  I 
will  give  you  a  calendar,  so  you  may 
keep  track  of  the  month." 

"Month!"  echoed  Theodore. 

"Yes,  for  you  are  to  stay  in  there  until 
128 


THEODORE 

the  ransom  is  paid.  Oh,  I  knew  how  to 
catch  you.  We  tried  to  get  Mr.  Bryan 
just  before  the  election,  but  we  couldn't 
think  of  the  right  sort  of  bait.  But  with 
you  it  was  different.  Don't  you  think 
there  is  a  good  deal  of  music  about  the 
scream  of  a  panther?" 

"I  think  there  is  a  good  deal  of  inso- 
lence about  you,  and  I  wish  I  could  get 
a  shot  at  you.  Here,  a  moment.  It  may 
be  well  enough  to  entrap  me,  but  you 
have  an  innocent  party — a  detective." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right.  If  he's  a  detec- 
tive he  doesn't  know  he's  shut  up  yet." 

"Sir,  your  sarcasm  is  unbecoming  a 
gentleman  and  a  scholar!"  I  cried,  unable 
longer  to  control  my  indignation.  I 
heard  him  laughing.  "It  will  not  be 
long,"  I  says  to  Theodore.  "Let  him 
enjoy  himself  while  he  can."  And  the 
fellow,  overhearing  me,  made  answer: 
"We  will  see  about  that." 
129 


THEODORE 

"But  don't  you  know  that  the  telegraph 
office  will  soon  be  here?"  says  Theodore, 
with  a  fine  shade  of  just  anger  overlying 
his  manly  countenance.  "Don't  you 
know  that?  And  then,  sir,  we  shall  be 
set  free." 

"It  would  seem  so,"  the  man  replied, 
"but  you  needn't  expect  any  assistance 
from  that  quarter.  The  press  has  with- 
drawn its  forces  to  watch  for  social  out- 
breaks in  Kansas,  and,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  one  report  a  day,  made  up  mostly 
at  home,  they  are  to  pay  no  further  at- 
tention to  you." 

"Can  this  be  true?"  Theodore  groaned. 
"Are  my  exploits  no  longer  to  be  chron- 
icled? Then  am  I  undone,  indeed.  Fel- 
low, the  money  cannot  be  raised.  I  have 
not  one-third  of  that  sum,  and  to  appeal 
to  Congress  or  the  President  would  be 
unconstitutional.  Besides,  the  state  of 
Colorado  would  resent  such  interference. 
130 


THEODORE 

Open  this  door  and  I  will  make  it  all 
right  with  you." 

"I  will  open  the  door  when  the  money 
is  put  down  by  a  red  lantern,  five  hun- 
dred feet  to  the  right  of  the  left-hand 
corner  of  this  house,  and  not  before. 
Any  communication  which  you  write 
must  be  in  plain  English,  with  no 
suggestion  of  cypher.  I  have  a  little 
score  to  settle  with  you,  and,  besides,  I 
need  the  money,  which,  of  course,  makes 
all  financial  operations  legitimate." 

"A  score  to  settle  with  me?"  says 
Theodore. 

"Yes.  I  was  once  a  wire-fence  cutter 
in  the  far  West,  and  you  declared  me  an 
outlaw,  and  made  it  so  uncomfortable 
for  my  line  of  business  that  whenever  a 
man  was  found  with  a  can-opener  in  his 
pocket  he  was  strung  up.  Do  you  wish 
writing  material?" 


131 


THEODORE 

"I  will  stay  in  here  until  the  day  of 
judgment,"  says  Theodore. 

"Just  as  you  please;  it's  not  that  I 
care.  But  I  guess  six  months  will  be 
enough  for  you." 

"Sir,  you  can't  keep  me  here.  The 
entire  populace  of  this  country  will  rise 
up." 

"Yes,  to  express  their  grief  that  you 
were  killed  by  a  grizzly.  It  will  be  easy 
enough  to  send  off  such  a  report.  The 
press  would  be  delighted  to  publish  it. 
And  I  can  very  easily  furnish  the  man- 
gled remains,  and  if  the  worst  comes 
to  the  worst,  J  can  mutilate  that  detec- 
tive and  send  his  lacerated  body  as  mute 
evidence.  Don't  you  see?" 

"I  wish  I  could  see  you,"  says  Theo- 
dore, seizing  his  gun,  working  his  elbow 
and  pumping  a  few  pounds  of  lead  into 
the  wall.  When  the  firing  ceased  the 
man  said :  "That  is  good  exercise.  When 
132 


THEODORE 

you  get  out  of  cartridges  I  will  see  that 
you  get  a  fresh  supply.  Well,  I'll  call 
again  in  the  morning." 

We  heard  him  striding  off  on  the 
frozen  ground.  "I  don't  know  what  to 
do,"  says  Theodore.  "Can't  you  think 
of  something?" 

I  wanted  to  get  out.  I  was  having 
my  fill  of  adventure,  and  I  told  him  that 
he  might  as  well  yield.  "Impossible," 
says  Theodore.  "The  people  would  re- 
gard the  whole  thing  as  a  joke  if  I  should 
appeal  to  them.  The  paragraphers 
would  laugh  at  me,  and  my  chances  for 
the  Presidency  would  be  forever  ruined. 
No,  I  can't  entertain  such  a  thought." 

While  he  was  talking  the  window  sud- 
denly darkened,  and  I  could  not  sup- 
press a  cry,  for  there,  shutting  out  nearly 
all  the  light,  was  the  head  of  old  Sir 
Billy,  slightly  drawn  back,  or  otherwise 
it  would  have  thrown  us  completely  in 
133 


THEODORE 

the  dark.  Theodore  seized  his  gun  and 
fired;  the  bear  shook  his  head  and,  with 
a  broad  grin,  spat  out  something.  It 
was  the  bullet.  Theodore  was  about  to 
fire  again,  after  observing  the  effect  of 
his  first  shot,  but  the  bear  ducked, 
and  we  felt  him  rubbing  against  the 
house. 

"He  may  huff  it  down  like  the  bear  in 
the  story,"  said  I. 

"The  bear  you  are  thinking  of  was  a 
wolf,"  says  Theodore.  "You  should  be 
a  little  more  careful  with  your  citations. 
But  he  may  rub  our  house  down,  that's 
a  fact.  And  if  he  does,  at  least  one  of 
us  is  likely  to  pay  the  penalty,  and  some- 
how, for  I  am  inclined  to  look  on  the 
bright  side,  I  don't  think  it  will  be  your 
Uncle  Edward,"  meaning  himself,  of 
course.  I  groaned  aloud.  "If  he  would 
only  kill  that  kidnaper  I  would  thank 
him,"  says  Theodore. 
134 


THEODORE 

''He  may  be  in  league  with  him,"  I 
suggested,  and  Theodore  replied: 

"A  picturesque  idea,  for  a  detective; 
but  of  course  it  is  necessarily  wide  of  the 
truth.  Still,  I  give  you  credit  for  ex- 
pressing it.  Whenever  you  have  noth- 
ing else  to  do  express  such  ideas.  They 
will  help  to  while  away  the  time. 
Helloa,  he's  taken  himself  off!" 

And  such  was  the  fact,  for  we  could 
hear  him  rolling  down  rocks  from  the 
mountain  side  not  far  away. 

The  day  was  long  and  tedious,  and  I 
for  one  was  in  hopes  that  our  captor 
would  pay  us  another  visit;  but  the  night 
closed  in,  and  we  heard  nothing  of  him. 
He  came  with  the  morning,  however, 
and,  tapping  upon  the  wall  to  announce 
himself,  asked  how  we  were  getting  on. 

"We  haven't  advanced  any  since  yes- 
terday," says  Theodore,  not  forgetting 
his  fine  grade  of  sarcasm. 
135 


THEODORE 

"But  don't  you  think  you  are  soon 
likely  to  get  on  further  toward  writing 
that  paper?" 

"The  time  for  my  first  message  has 
not  arrived,"  quoth  Theodore,  with  his 
humorous  mind  on  the  White  House. 

"And  when  it  has  arrived  it  may  cost 
the  country  more  than  four  hundred 
thousand  dollars,"  says  the  man  outside, 
and  we  heard  him  chuckle.  "I  have  de- 
cided to  shut  off  your  newspapers,"  says 
he,  chuckling  again.  "About  all  an 
American  needs  is  a  newspaper,  any- 
way, and  with  it  you  are  likely  to  be  too 
well  provided.  But  from  time  to  time, 
as  the  months  pass  by,  I  will  tell  you 
some  of  the  most  important  news." 

"The  months,"  echoed  our  hero. 

"I  said  months,"  quoth  the  kidnaper. 
"And  I  will  begin  now.     Mme.  Bern- 
hardt   has    expressed    herself  as   being 
greatly  pleased  with  society." 
136 


THEODORE 

"Has  she  consented  to  let  them  take 
her  up?" 

"I  mean  the  society  of  the  stock  yards. 
She  dipped  her  handkerchief  in  a  steer's 
blood  and  waved  him  a  good-bye.  She 
says  that  she  there  saw  the  finest  drama 
ever  played.  She  took  a  phonograph 
along  to  catch  a  few  squeals  to  use  in 
the  future,  when  she  produces  her  great 
rural  piece.  She  then  will  have  the  noise 
of  the  genuine  hog." 

"Why  didn't  she  catch  the  whistle  of 
an  Illinois  Central  train?" 

"Your  brightness  deserves  a  better 
fate,"  says  the  kidnaper.  "But  here  is 
some  more  news." 

"Let  us  have  it;  but  let  it  be  some- 
thing of  interest.  I  am  not  stuck  on 
actresses." 

"All  right.  The  resolutions  of  the  late 
peace  congress  show  that  there  are  to 
be  no  more  wars,  proving  that  the  Czar 
137 


THEODORE 

is  a  great  peacemaker,  and  should,  there- 
fore, be  blessed." 

"How  many  warships  is  he  building, 
and  what  are  his  recent  appropriations 
for  the  army?"  says  Theodore. 

"Big,"  says  the  kidnaper.  "But  that  is 
all  the  news  I  can  give  you  at  present. 
I  am  afraid  you'll  find  yourself  too  com- 
fortable if  I  keep  on.  You  won't  care 
to  come  out  at  all." 

"Look  here,"  says  Theodore,  "this 
joke  has  gone  far  enough.  Open  the 
door  and  I  will  walk  away  and  ask  no 
questions.  And  if  you  don't,  when  I'm 
President  I  will  veto  the  bill  that  declares 
your  irrigation  ditch  navigable.  Then 
look  at  the  money  you  will  lose." 

"You  indeed  move  me  deeply,"  says 
the  kidnaper;  "but  I  know  my  duty  when 
it  is  spread  out  before  me,  and  I  am  not 
to  be  tempted.  Well,  I  must  be  going." 
And  off  he  went. 

138 


IT  is  painful  thus  to  linger  over  the 
memory  of  our  imprisonment,  but  I 
have  been  set  to  the  great  task  of 
telling  the  simple  truth,  and  I  suppose 
you  know,  gentle  reader — second  time — 
that  all  simple  truths  are  full  of  details. 
If  this  were  not  true,  there  would  not  be 
news  enough  in  the  world  to  warrant 
the  getting  out  of  more  than  one  news- 
paper in  a  week. 

Ah,  but  now  we  had  work  to  do.  In 
his  restlessness  Theodore  discovered 
that  the  logs  were  pine,  and  that  with 
persistent  effort  one  of  them  might  be 
cut  in  two  with  our  knives.  His  was 
139 


THEODOR.E 


broken  about  half  way  of  the  blade,  but 
this  did  not  impair  its  effectiveness.  In 
fact,  if  anything  it  was  a  help.  So  to 
work  we  went,  whistling  at  our  labor, 
and  made  good  progress.  The  log  was 
about  two  feet  through  and  we  had 
hopes  that  it  might  be  hollow.  But  it 
was  not.  Our  captor  didn't  call  during 
the  day.  We  expected  him  at  night,  and 
grew  impatient  for  his  cheerful  voice, 
but  he  did  not  come  until  nearly  bed- 
time; then  he  arrived  in  a  merry  mood 
and  tossed  us  in  a  can  of  oil  for  our 
lantern. 

"Beautiful  night  out  here  under  the 
stars,"  says  he,  and  in  my  mind  I  could 
see  him  looking  up  at  the  Milky  Way. 

"Won't  you  come  in  and  sit  down  a 
while?"  says  Theodore,  never  for  a  mo- 
ment ceasing  his  work  at  the  log. 

"No,  I  believe  not.     What  are  you 
gentlemen  doing  in  there?" 
140 


THEODORE 

"Exercising  the  great  Yankee  privi- 
lege of  whittling,"  says  Theodore. 

"Good.  And  if  your  knives  get  dull 
you  may  call  on  me  for  a  whetstone." 

"Thank  you,"  says  Theodore;  "you 
are  very  polite.  What  was  your  busi- 
ness before  accepting  the  presidency  of 
the  Amalgamated  Association  of  Kid- 
napers?" 

"I  told  you  that  I  cut  wire  fences  for 
a  living." 

"I  mean  before  then.  What  gentle 
calling  did  you  follow?" 

"I  sold  coal  in  winter  and  ice  in  sum- 
mer." 

"And  what  are  you  going  to  do  when 
you  retire  from  your  present  position?" 

"I  thought  that  I  might  buy  out  a 
street-car  line.  But  how  about  your 
mind?  Have  you  made  it  up?" 

"Yes,  to  the  extent  of  telling  you  that 
it  is  impossible  to  give  in." 
141 


THEODORE 

"Then  it  is  impossible  to  get  out." 

"This  is  the  worst  outrage  of  the  cen- 
tury," says  Theodore,  whetting  his  knife 
on  his  boot  and  falling  to  work  with  re- 
newed vigor. 

"That  may  be,  but  new  enterprises  are 
coming  up  every  day,  and  one  never 
knows  what  to  expect." 

"Suppose  that,  as  a  last  resort,  I  am 
compelled  to  thwart  you  by  ending  my 
own  life?" 

"Then  you  could  never  be  President." 

"That's  a  fact,"  Theodore  admitted, 
with  a  deep  sigh.  "I  didn't  think  of 
that." 

"But  you  should  think  of  such  things. 
This  is  a  day  of  thought.  Did  you  ever 
contemplate  that?" 

Theodore  said  that  he  had,  still  cut- 
ting away  at  the  log.  I  had  seen  him 
under  different  emotions,  standing  the 
strain  of  varied  trials,  but  never  before 
142 


THEODORE 

had  I  been  afforded  the  opportunity  to 
admire  him  in  the  exercise  of  the 
muscles  of  industry.  And,  although  a 
detective,  I  hold  with  the  great  political 
economists  that  we  owe  all  our  wealth 
to — the  industry  of  others;  and  whenever 
I  see  a  man  at  work,  be  he  statesman  or 
hodcarrier,  a  feeling  of  enjoyment  rip- 
ples up  my  back  like  refreshing  water  on 
a  hot  day.  And  how  much  a  great  man 
can  perform  in  a  short  time  when  he  con- 
sents to  labor!  We  all  know  the  story 
of  the  workingman  who  left  his  pick 
hanging  in  the  air  when  the  six-o'clock 
whistle  startled  the  echoes  of  the  dying 
afternoon.  His  time  was  up,  and  noth- 
ing could  have  induced  him  to  complete 
the  blow.  But  with  a  great  man  it  is 
otherwise.  The  sounding  of  the  whistle 
makes  but  little  difference  to  him.  He 
is  looking  at  the  work  to  be  done  rather 
than  at  the  time. 

143 


THEODORE 

"Is  your  knife  holding  out  all  right?" 
says  the  considerate  kidnaper. 

"Reasonably  well/'  says  Theodore, 
never  for  a  moment  finding  fault  with  the 
tool  which  conditions  had  offered  him. 

"I  have  a  reasonably  good  Barlow  you 
may  try  when  that  one  gives  out." 

"Oh,  thank  you,"  says  Theodore,  "but 
keep  that,  please.  I  shall  use  it  after  a 
while  to  cut  your  throat  with.  It  would 
be  a  good  joke  to  sever  your  jugular 
with  your  own  knife." 

"Yes,  and  I  will  take  the  joke  when  I 
give  you  the  opportunity.  But  I  waste 
time.  I  neglect  business.  We  have  other 
enterprises  on  hand.  We  have  our  plans 
laid  for  the  kidnaping  of  other  great 
men.  You  didn't  know  that  we  had 
Billy  Mason  once,  I  suppose?" 

"No,"  says  Theodore,  "I  never  heard 
of  it." 

"But  perhaps  your  friend  in  there,  the 
144 


THEODORE 

detective,  can  tell  you  something  about 
it." 

"If  he  can  it  will  be  the  first  infor- 
mation I  ever  have  been  able  to  get 
out  of  him." 

"Then  he  understands  his  business. 
But  we  had  Billy  once." 

"Did  he  raise  the  ransom?" 

"No.  We  couldn't  make  him  under- 
stand that  he  was  kidnaped.  He  thought 
he  was  in  the  Senate  Chamber,  speaking 
on  an  important  matter — persisted  in 
telling  us  funny  stories,  and  we  were 
forced  to  let  him  go.  Even  a  kidnaper 
takes  life  seriously  at  times,  and  Billy's 
levity  distressed  me  so  that  I  couldn't 
hold  him  any  longer.  One  word  more 
before  I  go.  A  man  in  public  life  should 
have  had  varied  experiences,  and  this 
imprisonment  will  give  the  finishing 
touches  to  your  education." 

"And  the  final  touches  to  your  rich 
145 


THEODORE 

deservings  —  death,"  says  Theodore, 
again  "whetting  his  knife  on  his  boot. 
The  kidnaper  went  away,  whistling  o'er 
the  lea,  and  for  a  long  time  we  labored 
in  silence.  When  we  left  off  for  refresh- 
ments it  was  with  satisfaction  that  we 
estimated  that  two-thirds  of  the  difficulty 
had  been  cut  away.  While  we  were  eat- 
ing, the  bear  came  and  looked  in  upon 
us,  smiling  grimly.  I  reached  for  my 
gun,  for  I  knew  that  he  couldn't  get  at 
me,  but  Theodore  placed  a  restraining 
hand  on  my  arm  and  told  me  to  desist. 
"Let  him  alone  and  perhaps  he  may  eat 
up  our  captor,"  says  he. 

"But  in  that  event  we'd  starve  to  death 
in  here,"  says  I,  with  a  burst  of  inspira- 
tion, and  Theodore  complimented  me. 
"We  learn  from  children,  drunken  men 
and  fools,"  says  he,  smiling  upon  me. 
The  bear  smiled,  too,  and  for  a  time 
they  stood  trying  to  outsmile  each  other, 
146 


THEODORE 

but  finally  the  bear  shook  his  head  and 
got  down  out  of  sight.  Then  he  climbed 
upon  the  low  roof  of  our  prison  and 
stretched  himself  out  for  a  nap.  He 
must  have  eaten  something  that  weighed 
heavily  upon  him,  for  he  snored  distress- 
fully. 

"Here,  up  there,  stop  that!"  Theo- 
dore shouted.  "If  there's  anything  that 
jars  me  it  is  a  snore."  But  the  bear  kept 
on,  and  we  bent  ourselves  to  our  work. 
When  evening  came  we  sat  down  to  a 
well-earned  rest.  How  delightful  is  rest 
when  you  feel  that  you  have  merited  it! 
At  such  a  time  we  look  upon  a  blister  in 
the  hand  as  a  badge  of  honor,  but  even 
honors  pall  on  us  after  a  while.  The 
bear  finished  his  long  nap,  came  off  the 
roof,  stuck  his  nose  in  at  our  little  win- 
dow, smiled  and  was  gone.  I  felt  that  I 
had  earned  a  night  of  sound  sleep,  and 
after  bread  and  water  it  was  my  desire 
147 


THEODORE 

to  stretch  myself  out,  but  Theodore  said 
that,  as  we  were  in  a  sort  of  rush,  I  was 
expected  to  work  overtime.  So,  by  the 
light  of  the  lantern,  we  resumed  our  un- 
finished task.  And  I  shall  never  forget 
our  hero's  laugh  of  victory  as  we  struck 
the  bark  on  the  other  side  of  the  log. 

"The  light  ought  to  be  shining 
through  from  without,"  says  Theodore. 
"But  I  suppose  it's  too  dark.  Hold  the 
lantern  closer." 

He  worked  faster  and  faster,  and  sud- 
denly fell  back  with  a  cry  of  anguish. 
Between  two  log  walls  was  a  partition  of 
sheet  iron.  I  could  but  groan  as  I  gazed 
at  it. 

"Fate  is  against  us,"  says  Theodore. 
"Why  does  fate  so  often  array  herself  on 
the  side  of  the  wrongdoer?  Now,  I  know 
why  that  infernal  bear  smiled  so.  But 
he  shall  pay  for  it.  Come,  we  waste 
precious  time.  Perhaps  the  sheet  iron 
148 


THEODORE 

may  not  go  all  the  way  up.  Let  us  cut 
higher." 

"It  is  worse  than  useless,"  say  I,  clasp- 
ing my  blistered  hands. 

"What,  discouraged?  And  now  when 
victory  seems  so  near?" 

I  told  him  that  I  was  not  greedy  of 
conquest.  I  admitted  that  I  was  enter- 
prising; that  I  was  also  a  man  of  discern- 
ment, but  that  I  could  not  see  my  way 
through  iron. 

"Short  sighted,"  muttered  Theodore, 
whetting  his  knife.  "Sir,"  says  he,  "suc- 
cess in  this  life  is  a  reward  lying  at  the 
end  of  a  rocky  road.  Even  a  detective 
ought  to  know  that." 

I  replied  that  I  did  know  it,  but  that 
I  was  not  ambitious.  "Remember,"  says 
I,  "that  I  am  not  a  statesman." 

"Then  do  you  expect  to  stay  in  here 
like  a  rat?" 

"I  wish  I  could  burrow  out  like  one." 
149 


THEODORE 

"Ah,"  says  Theodore,  brightening, 
"there  is  a  good  suggestion.  We  will 
burrow.  The  foundation  can't  be  very 
deep,  and  even  frozen  ground  can  be  cut." 

So  we  went  to  work,  chipping  off  thin 
flakes  of  frozen  earth,  and  along  toward 
morning  we  struck  a  solid  rock.  This 
time  it  was  our  hero  who  groaned.  I 
was  past  the  point  of  any  emotion  what- 
ever. Upon  the  ground  we  stretched 
ourselves,  and  refreshing  and  well- 
merited  sleep  closed  our  eyes.  The  dull 
morning  broke  with  a  heavy  fog  pour- 
ing through  our  window.  Theodore 
strove  to  smile,  but  the  effort  was  too 
much  for  him.  We  waited  for  our  vis- 
itor, the  bear,  but  he  did  not  come. 
However,  along  toward  ten  o'clock,  the 
kidnaper  tapped  on  the  wall. 

"I  have  a  fountain  pen  and  some  very 
fine  tinted  paper  here,"  says  he.    "Now, 
perhaps  you  feel  like  writing." 
150 


THEODORE 

"That  I  do,"  says  Theodore,  "provided 
it  were  the  signing  of  your  death  war- 
rant." 

"Romantic,  even  unto  the  last,"  says 
the  kidnaper.  "But  don't  you  feel  dis- 
posed, in  view  of  difficulties  which  beset 
you,  sheet  iron  and  solid  rock — I  say, 
don't  you  feel  disposed  to  write  me  an 
order  for  four  hundred  thousand  dollars 
in  gold  coin?" 

"I  will  give  you  the  order  if  you  will 
set  us  at  liberty." 

"Oh,  that's  advancement.  But  I  can- 
not set  you  at  liberty  until  the  order  is 
honored.  That  would  be  against  the 
best  interests  and  the  positive  order  of 
the  kidnaping  trust.  But  give  me  the 
order  and  I  will  see  that  you  are  made 
comfortable  until  we  find  out." 

"But  suppose  it  should  not  be  hon- 
ored." 

"Then  we  should  be  compelled  to  put 
out  your  eyes."  151 


THEODORE 

"Well,  I  could  stand  that." 

"Could  you?  Then  we  would  pull 
your  teeth  to  rob  you  of  your  smile." 

Theodore  groaned.  "H  e  a  r  1 1  e  s  s 
wretch,"  he  muttered. 

"You  see,"  says  the  kidnaper,  "that 
you  have  every  inducement  to  make  the 
order  strong." 

"Say,  can't  you  cut  the  price  in  two?" 
says  Theodore,  with  a  momentary  gleam 
of  hope  in  his  bright  eyes. 

"Lower  prices!    What  are  trusts  for?" 

"I  am  beginning  to  feel  what  they  are 
for,"  says  Theodore,  "and  the  time  may 
come  when  I  can  influence  legislation 
against  them." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  as  to  that,"  pleas- 
antly replied  the  kidnaper.  "It  might 
have  seemed  so  once,  but  times  have 
changed." 

"What's  the  news?"  says  Theodore, 
after  a  moment  of  deep  thought. 
152 


THEODORE 

"Well,  our  brothers  in  New  York,  the 
trusts,  are  giving  ten-thousand-dollar 
dinners." 

"Are  they?  But  tell  me,  is  Dr.  Har- 
per pulling  Rockefeller's  leg  to  advan- 
tage?" 

"The  doctor  is  ever  an  advantageous 
puller,"  says  the  kidnaper.  "But  you 
must  know  that  he  is  a  public  benefactor. 
He  is  like  a  circus — the  money  he  gets 
could  be  got  in  no  other  way.  A  monu- 
ment to  vanity  may  become  a  temple  of 
learning,  you  know." 

"What  a  political  spellbinder  you 
would  make,"  says  Theodore.  "Before 
I  go  away  from  here  I  wish  you  would 
give  me  your  address." 

"When  you  go  away  you  won't  need 
addresses." 

"Reassuring,"  says  Theodore.     "But 
say,  why  don't  you  go  and  get  Benjamin 
Harrison  and  shut  him  up?" 
153 


THEODORE 

"He  has  appointments  with  the  peace 
commission  when  he  comes  out  of  his 
cave  of  discontent.  And  I  am  a  man  of 
peace.  I  don't  believe  in  wars — all  I 
believe  in  is  the  trust." 

"Well,"  says  Theodore,  "I  suppose  all 
I  can  do  now  is  to  give  myself  over  to 
Providence." 

"Why,  that's  exactly  what  the  trusts 
are  doing,  and  every  time  they  do  prices 
go  up.  The  trusts  believe  that  they  have 
a  corner  on  the  mercies  of  Providence." 

"Blasphemous  wretch,"  muttered 
Theodore. 

"Well,  but  doesn't  it  seem  that  way?" 

Theodore  was  forced  to  admit  that  it 
did.  But  he  added  that  a  day  of  reck- 
oning was  coming.  "Yes,"  says  the  kid- 
naper, "and  it  has  been  coming  ever 
since  the  world  began,  but  it  hasn't  got 
here  yet.  By  the  way,  I  have  another 
piece  of  news.  The  literati  has  met  Mme. 
154 


THEODORE 

Bernhardt  at  the  house  of  Fernando 
Jones,  in  Chicago.  The  Twentieth  Cen- 
tury Club  did  the  honors." 

"Who  are  the  literati  ?"  says  Theodore. 

"Why,  those  who  don't  write  and  don't 
care  for  what  has  been  written.  I 
thought  you  knew  that." 

"And  were  there  no  writers  at  the  re- 
ception?" 

"Yes;  the  reporters  stood  on  the  back 
steps." 

"I  think  I  was  once  entertained  by  the 
Twentieth  Century  Club,"  says  Theo- 
dore. "And,  as  I  remember  it,  there 
were  many  bright  minds  present." 

"Yes,  for  most  of  the  members  sell 
polish.  A  number  of  the  ladies  speak 
French  as  well  as  they  do  Irish." 

"And  did  Mme.  Bernhardt  understand 
them?" 

"Oh,  perfectly.  She  had  her  inter- 
preter with  her." 

i55 


THEODORE 

"Ah,  but  this  is  idle  persiflage,"  says 
Theodore,  a  consciousness  of  his  cap- 
tivity weighing  heavily  upon  him.  "I 
must  get  out  of  here." 

"Then  you  are  ready  to  write?" 

"Sir,  I  have  been  accounted  a  ready 
writer.  I  studied  the  compendium,  and 
am  acquainted  with  nearly  all  forms,  but 
the  kidnaping  form  was  not  in  my  book." 

"Then  you  must  give  me  the  pleasure 
of  originating  a  form  for  you.  But  you 
are  aweary  now.  Lie  down  to  peaceful 
slumbers  and  I  may  call  again  soon." 
And  with  that  he  took  himself  off,  leav- 
ing us  to  nurse  our  loneliness. 

But  he  was  a  kind  and  obliging  kid- 
naper, and  returned  not  long  afterward, 
seeming  to  take  an  interest  in  our  work. 
"What  decision  have  you  come  to,"  he 
inquired,  rubbing  his  back  against  a  cor- 
ner of  the  cabin  and  muttering  some- 
thing about  blessings  on  the  Duke  of 
Argyle.  156 


THEODORE 

"I  am  where  you  left  me,"  says  Theo- 
dore, with  a  sigh  that  did  not  escape  my 
detective  ears. 

"I  can  well  believe  that,"  says  the  kid- 
naper, leaving  off  the  ancient  Scotch 
diversion  of  scratching  his  back.  "And 
it  does  not  require  any  particular  fore- 
sight to  assure  you  that  you  are  likely  to 
stay  there  unless  you  come  to  terms." 

"I  care  nothing  for  your  opinions," 
says  Theodore.  "What  I  want  is  news. 
You  forget  that  I  am  an  American." 

"Well,"  says  our  outside  entertainer, 
"as  I  have  not  been  connected  long 
enough  with  the  trust  to  become  wholly 
inhuman,  I  will  oblige  you.  Poor  old 
man  Carnegie  has  been  frozen  out  of  the 
steel  combine." 

"You  don't  tell  me!  And  how  much 
did  he  find  with  him  out  in  the  cold?" 

"Oh,  about  eighty-five  millions — for 
a  part  of  his  holdings." 

157 


THEODORE 

"Poor  old  man,"  sighed  Theodore. 
"His  was  a  gentle  spirit.  What  is  he 
going  to  do  for  a  living  now?" 

"He  would  go  to  a  Soldier's  Home,  I 
suppose,  but  he  was  only  a  telegrapher 
during  the  civil  war.  But  surely  his 
friends  won't  see  him  suffer — he  has 
given  them  so  much  good  advice.  And 
now  he  says  that  a  man  ought  to  marry 
a  woman  at  least  twenty  years  older  than 
himself." 

"Oh,  generous  advocate  of  the  old 
ladies'  home.  But  why  didn't  he  say 
forty  years  older  and  give  the  ballet  girl 
a  chance?  Now  for  your  other  news. 
I  pant!" 

"Well,  the  Czar  has  made  the  Presi- 
dent a  present  of  an  album  containing 
pictures  of  his  coronation." 

"Oh,  generous  monarch!  And  what 
did  Mac  say?" 

"  'Much  obliged,  Czarie.  I'll  send  you 
158 


THEODORE 

some  views  taken  along  the  Little 
Miami,'  which  may  be  worth  more  to 
art  if  not  to  history." 

"Kidnaper,  I  thank  you  for  that  senti- 
ment. But  what  else  have  you?" 

"Mrs.  Nation  has  visited  Chicago." 

"Who,  Mrs.  Helen  D.  Nation?" 

"Oh,  no;  Mrs.  Carrie  Nation." 

"What  did  she  do?" 

"Snatched  a  cigarette  out  of  a  man's 
mouth,  and  made  a  saloonkeeper  put 
clothes  on  a  nude  figure." 

"And  where  was  Carter  Harrison  all 
this  time?" 

"Dodging.  But  she  found  him  at  a 
ball  and  asked  him  to  give  her  his  confi- 
dence." 

"Why  didn't  she  ask  Kipley  to  give 
her  one  of  his  confidence  men?  But  go 
on,  I  prithee." 

"She  asked  Carter  if  he  ever  lied." 

"And  what  did  he  do?" 
159 


"Bowed  and  blushed  for  the  city  hall." 

"Anything  else?" 

"Yes,  Chicago  will  make  an  effort  to 
grab  off  the  Olympic  games." 

"Why  doesn't  it  make  an  effort  to  get 
rid  of  its  other  games?" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  but  the  political 
trusts — and  all  trusts  are  kin — assure 
the  world  that  there  is  no  gambling  in 
that  city.  Ask  your  detective." 

"There  is  none,"  I  spoke  up  brightly, 
true  to  my  training. 

"Anything  more?"  says  Teddy,  with 
his  face  pressed  eagerly  against  the  wall. 

"Yes.  Chicago  is  about  to  solve  the 
question  that  confronts  the  unem- 
ployed." 

"How  so?" 

"By  expelling  them  from  the  city." 

"But  how  can  this  be  done?" 

"By  providing  work  for  them.  This 
would  be  dead  wrong — it  would  interfere 

160 


THEODORE 

with  the  design  of  sweet  and  blessed 
charity.  Charity  says,  'If  you  give  them 
work  there  will  be  no  excuse  for  my  vast 
machinery.  If  you  break  up  my  bureau 
you  cut  off  the  salaries  of  good  and  true 
men,  who  sit  so  gracefully  and  comfort- 
ably asleep  at  their  desks.  They  them- 
selves might  be  compelled  to  work  for 
a  living,  and  that  would  be  a  shame. 
The  money  that  they  receive  might  be 
devoted  to  cleaning  the  streets,  and  that 
would  be  an  outrage.'  But  time  speeds. 
I  must  go,"  and  with  that  he  left  us. 


161 


CHAPTER    XI 
RIDING   THE    BEAR 

DURING  the  rest  of  the  day  and 
until  bedtime  that  night  Theo- 
dore was  more  depressed  than  I 
had  ever  seen  him.  Even  the  strongest 
heart  must  grow  faint  after  a  while, 
when  hope  seems  to  be  but  mockery.  He 
sat  with  his  back  against  the  wall  and 
talked  of  the  past;  he  said  that  he  would 
like  to  write  his  memoirs,  and  this 
proved  to  me  that  indeed  he  considered 
our  case  as  one  of  abject  despair.  And 
to  think  that  at  one  time  years  ago  I  had 
been  tolerant  of  a  kidnaper!  I  remem- 
ber it  well.  'Twas  on  a  summer's  eve- 
ning when  the  cry  arose  that  a  boy  had 
162 


THEODORE 

been  stolen.  There  was  great  excite- 
ment, as  I  pushed  through  a  crowd  of 
mothers  in  the  street,  but  I  told  them  to 
take  heart.  Over  in  an  adjoining  lot  I 
found  a  man,  a  bearded  tramp,  who 
had  grabbed  a  boy.  The  tramp  had 
liberated  the  boy,  and  the  youth, 
unappreciative  of  his  freedom,  was 
standing  off  viewing  the  kidnaper 
as  he  drank  a  can  of  beer.  I 
arrested  the  scoundrel  and  struck  him 
only  three  times  with  my  club — I  was 
not  a  plain-clothes  man  then,  but  one  of 
the  uniformed  force;  and  did  not  hit  him 
again  until  we  arrived  at  the  station, 
when  I  gave  him  another  swat  by  way 
of  a  parting  salute.  Many  another  man 
would  have  treated  him  harshly,  but  I 
was  always  tender-hearted.  But  what 
did  it  avail  me  now  that  I  was  shut  up, 
far  from  home  and  from  friends,  whom 
I  owed  small  sums  ranging  from  fifty 
163 


THEODORE 

cents  to  ten  dollars?  Alas,  in  my  great 
time  of  need,  there  was  none  to  show  me 
mercy! 

Theodore  dozed  off  to  sleep  where  he 
sat,  too  despondent  even  to  lie  down,  and 
I  sat  there  watching  the  lantern  as  it 
winked  and  sputtered  on  the  ground  be- 
side him.  At  his  feet,  where  it  had  fallen 
from  his  discouraged  hand,  lay  his  well- 
worn  knife,  last  remnant  of  his  determi- 
nation. Hours  passed.  What  would 
not  I  have  given  to  hear  the  ticking  of  a 
clock!  The  universal  enemy  of  sleep, 
the  cat  on  the  back  fence,  would  now 
have  been  a  joy  to  me.  But  I  heard 
nothing  save  the  distant  howl  of  a  wild 
beast  and  the  wailing  of  the  wind  deep 
down  in  a  gulch.  Finally  there  came 
another  sound,  now  grown  familiar,  that 
of  the  bear  climbing  to  rest  on  our  roof. 
I  was  becoming  so  accustomed  to  him 
that  I  could  read  all  his  movements  by 
164 


THEODORE 

the  noises  he  made.  Now  he  was  yawn- 
ing, now  scratching  himself,  now  stretch- 
ing out  to  sleep.  The  hours  continued 
to  pass  and  Theodore  was  sleeping 
peacefully.  Occasionally  his  forefinger 
would  twitch,  as  if  he  were  working  a 
trigger.  Ah,  he  was  dreaming  of  inno- 
cent conquest  among  the  wild  beasts  of 
the  forest.  "Dream  on,"  I  said.  "Sip 
your  pleasures  in  sleep,  for  all  too  soon 
there  will  come  an  awakening,  when 
your  too  restless  spirit  again  will  fret  un- 
der the  power  of  the  kidnaping  trust." 
Suddenly  he  leaped  to  his  feet  with  a  loud 
laugh.  I  thought  he  was  still  dreaming, 
but  with  wide  open  eyes  he  turned  to  me 
and  said:  "Fools  that  we  were!" 

"Yes,  to  come  in  here,"  I  admitted. 

"No;  not  to  get  out.  Look,  we  have 
cartridges.  We  can  unload  them,  stuff 
this  hole  in  the  wall  with  the  powder  and 
blow  up  our  prison." 


THEODORE 

"But  won't  that  be  dangerous?"  I 
asked,  and  then  he  spoke  in  tones  of  sup- 
pressed contempt:  "Oh,  of  course.  It 
is  dangerous  to  breathe,  to  eat,  and  to 
sleep.  It  is  dangerous  to  do  anything." 
But  he  softened  toward  me  and  contin- 
ued: "Come,  pour  out  your  cartridges, 
and  get  to  work.  It  is  better  to  blow 
ourselves  up  than  to  have  our  eyes  put 
out,  although  such  a  condition  might 
improve  your  efficiency  as  a  detective." 

His  sarcasm  nerved  me,  and  I  fell  to 
work  with  a  will.  Unloading  brass 
cartridges  is  not  an  easy  job.  The  bul- 
lets were  in  tight,  but  Theodore's  won- 
derful teeth  now  came  into  practical 
play,  for  he  bit  them  out  like  biting 
corn  off  the  cob.  And  by  the  time 
a  pale  shaft  of  daylight  fell  through 
our  window,  we  had  almost  a  hat 
full  of  powder.  That  there  should 
be  no  possibility  of  waste,  he  thrust 
166 


the  hat — my  hat — into  the  hole  and 
then  packed  earth  and  chips  tightly 
about  it.  Ah,  how  devotedly  he  labored 
now.  An  inventor,  about  to  reach  a 
climax,  could  not  have  exceeded  him. 

"I  hope  the  kidnaper  will  reach  here 
about  the  time  we  touch  her  off,"  says 
Theodore,  ramming-  in  a  handful  of 
earth. 

"The  bear  is  asleep  on  the  roof  now," 
says  I. 

"Is  he?  Then  we  will  wake  him  up; 
for  after  all  it  was  he  that  got  us  into 
this  trap.  Dig  up  some  more  dirt  there 
and  hand  it  to  me.  Ah,  we  couldn't 
have  made  a  better  hole  for  a  blow-up 
if  we  had  tried.  I  wonder  why  we  didn't 
think  of  it  sooner.  But  no  matter,  we 
have  thought  of  it  and  will  soon  be  at 
liberty,  I  promise  you." 

"But,  as  I  said  before,  it  will  be  at- 
tended by  a  good  deal  of  risk,"  says  I, 
167 


THEODORE 

watching  him  as  he  neared  the  comple- 
tion of  his  task. 

"That's  true.  One  of  us  may  be 
killed." 

"But  which  one?  That's  the  question." 

He  halted  a  moment  and  looked  at 
me.  "Why,  you,  of  course.  You  must 
know  that  in  such  cases  the  mortality  is 
rarely  more  than  fifty  per  cent." 

"But  isn't  it  possible  for  you  to  repre- 
sent that  fifty  per  cent?" 

"I  refuse  to  accept  revised  figures," 
says  he,  resuming  his  work,  upon  which 
he  was  now  putting  the  finishing  touches. 
I  was  afraid  of  the  thing.  I  was  down 
on  the  drainage  canal  once  and  saw  a 
number  of  men,  all  strangers  to  me,  sail- 
ing through  the  air,  and  I  remember 
thinking  at  the  time  that  they  were  go- 
ing to  have  a  hard  time  of  it,  and  they 
did.  Little  did  I  suppose  that  I  should 
ever  emulate  their  awful  example.  But 
168 


THEODORE 

that  time  was  now  approaching.  Theo- 
dore was  tearing  a  strip  from  his  hand- 
kerchief, of  which  "to  make  a  fuse,"  he 
pleasantly  remarked.  It  was  now  broad 
day  and  I  heard  the  twitter  of  a  bird, 
doubtless  the  last  I  should  ever  hear. 
Through  my  mind  there  swept  a  host  of 
memories,  of  reward  money  I  had  re- 
ceived for  nabbing  the  wrong  man,  and 
of  a  ballot  box  I  had  seen  stolen  on  the 
West  Side.  But  it  was  now  too  late  to 
repent  of  anything  done  in  the  past.  The 
fuse  was  smoking,  and  what  a  scent,  that 
burning  rag!  Theodore  crouched  down 
in  one  corner  and  I  in  another. 

"It  takes  a  long  time,"  says  he,  grow- 
ing impatient. 

"There  is  no  time  so  long  as  that  which 
is  poised  on  the  edge  of  eternity,"  says 
I,  remembering  that  I  had  seen  the  epi- 
grams of  the  Rev.  Frank  Crane. 

"I  wish  that  thing  didn't  smell  so," 
169 


THEODORE 

says  Theodore.  "I  like  to  smell  pow- 
der, but  a  little  of  burnt  rag  goes  a  long 
ways.  Listen,  did  you  hear  that  bear 
sneeze?" 

"I  can  hear  nothing  now,  save  the 
beating  of  my  own  heart,"  says  I. 

"Well,  perhaps  it  won't  disturb  you 
long,"  says  he.  And  then — and  then — 
with  logs  and  fragments  of  wood  whirl- 
ing about  me,  I  was  sailing  through  the 
vibrating  air!  There  came  the  sound  of 
the  explosion,  far  below.  It  was  a  bright 
morning  and  I  looked  about  for  Theo- 
dore, but  could  not  make  him  out,  there 
were  so  many  obstructions.  I  won- 
dered how  I  was  to  get  down  with- 
out hurting  myself.  Oh,  how  I  wished 
for  an  elevator.  But  now,  having 
reached  my  height,  I  was  falling,  faster 
and  faster,  and  down  I  came  in  a  snow 
drift.  I  scrambled  out  and  looked  about 
to  see  if  I  were  hurt;  I  felt  of  myself  and 
170 


PULLED   HARD   ON 

SIR   BILLY'S   EARS.     Page  '7' 


THEODORE 

finding  that  I  was  all  right,  complimented 
myself.  But  where  was  Theodore?  And 
now  a  thrilling  sight  rewarded  my  search. 
Not  far  off  was  our  hero,  galloping 
across  the  country  on  the  back  of  old  Sir 
Billy,  holding  on  by  his  ears.  He  had 
come  down  astride  the  bear,  and  being 
a  man  of  quick  decision,  had  decided  to 
ride  him.  I  forgot  my  fear  of  the  great 
beast  and  yelled  out  to  Theodore  to  wait 
a  moment;  he  heard  me,  and  pulled  hard 
on  Sir  Billy's  ears,  but  there  was  no 
slacking  of  his  headlong  speed.  I  fol- 
lowed on  as  fast  as  I  could,  fearful  of  the 
result  while  rejoicing  in  my  freedom; 
but  they  soon  passed  out  of  sight  over 
a  great  crest  of  rocks,  bounding  toward 
a  cliff.  If  the  bear  should  take  this  leap, 
I  knew  that  it  would  be  fatal  not  only  to 
himself  but  to  Theodore,  as  well;  and  I 
halted  long  enough  to  pour  forth  a  groan 
on  the  cool  and  invigorating  air.  But 
171 


THEODORE 

while  following,  let  me  observe  that  the 
kidnaper  was  not  there  to  share  in  the 
explosion.  I  would  like  to  say  that  he 
was  killed  by  a  flying  timber,  but  he  was 
not.  Truth  compels  me  to  say  that  he  is 
still  alive  and  doing  a  thriving  business 
for  all  I  know.  I  put  an  advertisement 
in  the  Denver  newspapers,  but  nothing 
came  of  this,  my  strong  effort  to  bring 
him  to  justice. 

As  I  was  nearing  the  cliff  my  heart 
bounded  at  the  sight  of  Theodore,  sitting 
on  a  rock,  with  his  eagle  eye  fixed  on 
the  unfamiliar  sun. 

"Good  morning,"  says  he,  as  I  came 
up.  "I  hope  you  had  a  good  night's 
rest."  And  then  his  old  smile  illumined 
his  countenance.  He  told  me  that  the 
bear  had  run  under  a  hanging  rock  that 
scraped  him  off.  "But  never  mind," 
says  he,  "I  will  get  him  yet." 

"But  don't  you  think  that  we  ought 
172 


THEODORE 

to  make  it  our  business  to  look  for  that 
kidnaper?"  says  I,  being  hot  against  our 
captor. 

"My  dear  boy,"  he  says,  affectionately, 
"there  are  some  things  you  don't  seem 
to  understand.  We  are  at  liberty,  and 
that  is  enough.  Do  you  suppose  we  can 
afford  to  bring  all  the  trusts  in  the  coun- 
try down  upon  us?  Let  him  alone  now, 
and  I  will  see  if  there  can  be  any  legis- 
lation introduced  against  him.  Personal 
vengeance  is  below  the  dignity  of  a 
statesman.  I  am  a  hunter  of  animals 
and  not  of  men." 

I  did  not  agree  with  him.  Man-hunt- 
ing was  my  business,  and  as  I  before 
mentioned,  I  strove  to  find  him  with  an 
advertisement. 

Now,  with  light  hearts,  we  tripped 
down  the  scaly  mountain  sides  toward 
our  camp,  expecting  from  what  the  kid- 
naper had  told  us  to  find  it  deserted;  but 
173 


THEODORE 

he  had  issued  a  false  statement,  for  there 
were  the  Rough  Writers  in  our  cabin, 
making  themselves  at  home.  Theodore 
greeted  them  pleasantly,  and  then  we 
were  shown  the  reports  that  they  had 
sent  off  during  our  absence.  It  seems 
that  never  did  they  even  suspect  our 
captivity.  Once  they  trailed  a  telegraph 
wire  within  a  hundred  feet  of  our  prison, 
but  halted  not,  pushing  on  to  report  the 
number  of  lions  slain.  I  asked  Theo- 
dore if  he  did  not  intend  to  rest  during 
the  day,  and  he  winked  at  me  as  much 
as  to  tell  me  to  hush,  that  such  a  thing 
was  impossible.  We  did  not  tell  the 
Writers  of  our  captor,  nor  of  blowing  up 
the  prison.  Theodore  said  he  did  not 
want  them  to  send  off  sensational  re- 
ports. 

"Get  ready  to  go  with  me,"  said  Theo- 
dore, after  we  had  eaten  a  bite.     "I  must 


174 


THEODORE 

have  that  bear  or  the  whole  thing  will 
be  but  a  failure." 

"You  had  him  once,"  said  I. 

"Yes;  and  if  I  had  thought  to  take  my 
knife  up  with  me  all  might  have  been 
different.  But  get  ready.  We  waste 
time." 


175 


CHAPTER   XII 
LOST  AGAIN 

I  WAS  in  hopes  that  our  trials,  which 
Theodore  called  adventures,  were  at 
an  end,  but  such  was  not  quite  the 
case.     I  was  anxious  to  get  home,  and 
told  him   so.     He  replied:    "What   are 
your  duties  compared  with  mine?     I  in- 
formed you  that  I  could  not  preside  over 
the  Senate,  knowing  that  Sir  Billy  still 
roamed  at  large,  and  now  you  remind 
me  of  your  duties."  I  apologized  and  told 
him  to  lead  on,  that  I  would  follow ;  and 
again  we  struck  out  in  search  of  the  bear. 
The  telegraph  followed  at  an  unobtru- 
sive distance,  the  weather  was  fair,  and 
176 


THEODORE 

all  seemed  well.  Theodore  whistled 
merrily  as  he  strode  up  the  trail,  our 
mules  close  behind.  They  had  found 
their  way  home  during  our  captivity. 
Indeed,  it  was  their  habit  to  find  their 
way  back  to  camp  whenever  they  got  a 
sniff  of  Sir  Billy. 

We  returned  to  the  place  where  the 
log  house  had  been  blown  to  atoms,  and 
Theodore,  who  is  contemplative  as  well 
as  active,  sat  down  and  mused  for  a  time. 
"This  is  the  scene  of  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable events  in  the  recent  history  of 
this  country,"  said  he,  "and  I  want  to 
fasten  it  upon  my  memory.  I  was 
about  to  forget  it  and  happily  arrived 
here  in  time  to  avert  such  a  loss.  But 
I  charge  you,  do  not  exaggerate  in  your 
report  of  it." 

"That  is  not  likely,  sir,  for  I  am  not 
a  trained  writer." 

"True,"  says  Theodore,  warmly  press- 
177 


THEODORE 

ing  my  hand.  And  then  after  deep 
thought  he  added:  "I  have  been  forced 
to  decide  that  it  is  useless  to  try  that 
bear  with  a  gun." 

"I  would  advise  poison,"  said  I,  look- 
ing at  him  with  strong  appeal. 

"Do  you  take  me  for  an  assassin?" says 
he,  seeming  to  regret  that  he  had  pressed 
my  hand. 

"Oh,  not  at  all,  sir;  but  I  thought  it 
was  his  demise  you  were  after." 

"It  is;  but  he  must  be  killed  in  a  fair 
fight.  Do  you  think  there  is  any  prowess 
in  poisoning  a  bear?" 

I  admitted  that  I  did  not.  "Come," 
says  he,  "we  waste  precious  time." 

Onward  we  went,  up  into  a  part  of  the 
mountains  which  as  yet  we  had  not  ex- 
plored, and  at  noon  sat  down  to  refresh- 
ments. Just  as  Theodore  lifted  a  bottle 
to  his  lips  it  was  dashed  to  pieces  by  a 
panther  that  leaped  at  him  from  a  high 
178 


THEODORE 

rock.  The  brute  ran  off  a  short  distance 
to  get  another  start,  and  was  crouching 
for  a  spring,  when  Theodore,  catching  up 
his  gun,  remarked:  "Impolite  beast,  take 
the  consequences  of  your  rashness!" 
and  with  that  the  rifle  cracked.  The 
panther  weighed  three  hundred  pounds, 
and  yielded  one  of  the  finest  skins  I  ever 
saw. 

We  entered  a  steep  gulch  and  were 
climbing  upward  at  a  fair  rate  of  speed, 
when  we  discovered  that  our  immediate 
progress  was  blocked  by  a  drove  of  lions. 
For  nearly  half  an  hour  we  pumped  our 
magazines,  and  then  came  the  toilsome 
work  of  climbing  over  the  dead.  Being 
freshly  killed  and  therefore  yielding,  the 
beasts  were  hard  to  walk  over.  One  of 
them,  not  being  quite  dead,  bit  off  the 
heel  of  Theodore's  boot,  but  he  took  it 
in  good  part  and  cut  the  lion's  throat. 
At  last  we  were  up  in  the  highest  grade, 
179 


THEODORE 

and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  I 
could  breathe,  but  Theodore  didn't 
mind  it.  He  whistled,  and  sang,  and 
shot  a  panther  that  he  saw  skulk- 
ing in  the  distance.  But  night  came 
with  no  traces  of  the  bear,  and  we 
turned  camp-ward,  when  again  we 
discovered  that  we  were  lost.  "If 
you  hear  the  scream  of  a  panther,  the 
grunt  of  a  bear,  or  any  other  sound,  don't 
follow  it,"  says  I.  "Remember  our 
trap." 

"You  are  growing  strangely  cautious," 
says  he,  listening. 

"I  am  growing  wise  if  you  call  that 
caution." 

"I  will  agree  to  see  you  safe  within 
the  smoky  precincts  of  the  detective 
agency,"  says  he,  with  a  touch  of  protec- 
tion in  his  manly  voice.  "Suppose  we 
camp  here." 

We  rolled  up  in  our  blankets  and  com- 
180 


NOTHING  OF  NOTE  HAPPENED 

DURING  THE  NIGHT.       Page  181 


THEODORE 

posed  ourselves  for  sleep,  and  nothing 
of  note  happened  during  the  night.  Once 
a  lion  stole  up  and  blew  his  hot  breath 
in  my  face;  at  another  time  a  panther 
socked  his  teeth  into  Theodore's  boot, 
and  ran  away  with  his  blanket;  an 
avalanche  of  snow  came  down  and  cov- 
ered us  to  the  extent  of  about  ten  feet; 
but  aside  from  these  petty  annoyances 
the  night  was  as  pleasant  and  eventless 
for  sleeping  purposes  as  we  could  have 
desired.  Early  in  the  morning  Theo- 
dore killed  three  lions  and  then  struck 
out  in  a  westerly  direction.  At  about 
nine  o'clock  we  sighted  a  flock  of  Rocky 
Mountain  goats.  They  were  amusing 
themselves  by  leaping  off  a  bluff  nearly  a 
thousand  feet  high  and  lighting  on  their 
horns,  bounding  up  with  astonishing 
elasticity.  One  of  them  bounced  over 
near  us  and  we  made  a  fine  meal  off  him, 
the  flesh  being  tender  and  juicy.  Shortly 
181 


THEODORE 

afterward  I  saw  an  animal  that  did  not 
excite  my  fear,  although  it  was  most  un- 
familiar to  me  until  I  tried  to  catch  it — 
then  Theodore  commanded  me  to  go 
off  somewhere  and  bury  my  clothes.  I 
told  him  that  the  weather  was  too  cold 
to  strip. 

"Then  go  and  bury  yourself,"  he  said 
through  his  nose.  "Don't  come  near 
me.  Stand  up  yonder  and  let  the  wind 
blow  on  you." 

I  did  so,  while  he  waited  in  the  dis- 
tance. And  as  I  stood  there  I  heard  a 
great  scratching  upon  the  rocks,  and 
looking  around  with  a  start,  I  saw  the 
bear  climbing  after  me.  I  shouted  in 
alarm,  and  just  then  a  fortunate  breeze 
from  me  struck  Sir  Billy  and  he  tumbled 
off  the  rock,  sniffing  the  air  distressfully, 
and  was  gone.  Theodore  soon  forgot 
my  perfumery  in  his  anxiety  to  reach  the 
bear,  which  he  could  not — for  he  was 
182 


THEODORE 

gone;  and  I  think  that  our  hero  was 
mortified  to  reflect  that  even  I,  a  modest 
detective,  had  power  enough  to  frighten 
the  lord  of  the  mountains.  But  I  as- 
sured him,  as  he  must  have  known  very 
well,  that  it  was  no  unaided  force  of  my 
own. 

Night  found  us  still  following  the  bear, 
but  as  we  were  now  near  the  camp,  we 
decided  to  turn  in.  I  was  thankful  for 
this,  having  a  cheerful  fire  in  view;  and 
I  enjoyed  it  all  to  myself,  Theodore 
choosing  to  sleep  in  the  shed  with  the 
Rough  Writers.  But  by  morning  I  was 
presentable — I  mean  endurable,  and 
cheerfully  we  set  out  over  the  moun- 
tains. The  Writers  did  not  follow  us, 
however,  and  Theodore,  turning  to  me, 
said:  "So,  you  see,  everything  is  of  some 
use." 

"Yes,"  says  I;  "and  I  hope  you  will 
forgive  me." 

183 


THEODORE 

"I  will;  but  when  you  see  another  one 
of  those  little  animals,  let  your  invitation 
to  visit  another  neighborhood  be  very 
pressing." 

"Did  you  ever  encounter  one,  sir?" 
"Once.  It  was  during  my  gallant 
days  on  the  plains.  The  night  was  beau- 
tiful. There  was  to  be  a  ball  in  the  dance 
hall  at  Blue  Nose.  I  was  on  my  way 
thither.  My  horse  was  an  easy  trotter, 
my  health  was  perfect,  and  nothing  more 
could  be  desired.  Suddenly  something 
gleamed  in  the  moonlight  in  front  of 
me.  The  horse  stopped,  stiffened  his 
ears,  and  snorted.  I  touched  him  with 
the  spur  and  he  jumped  straight  up. 
This  was  singular.  What,  afraid  of  so 
little  a  thing  as  the  white  and  black  ani- 
mal that  gleamed  and  darkened  in  the 
road?  I  touched  him  harder  with  the  spur. 
He  leaped  to  one  side.  The  little  animal 
sat  down  in  the  road  with  the  moon 
184 


THEODORE 

full  upon  him.  His  eyes  looked  like  two 
sparks  of  fire.  'Beautiful  creature,'  I 
said  to  myself;  and  the  horse  shuddered. 
I  was  to  dance  the  first  set  with  Miss 
Magnolia  Knockknee,  a  charming  half 
breed.  I  remembered  to  have  heard  her 
express  a  fondness  for  pets.  I  would 
take  this  one  to  her  and  present  it  with 
a  graceful  bow.  So  I  dismounted  and 
strove  to  lead  the  horse  toward  the  little 
animal,  but  he  pulled  back,  with  his  eyes 
rolling.  With  the  toe  of  my  boot  I  as- 
sisted him  to  come  forward  a  few  feet, 
and  then,  when  it  was  too  late,  it  was 
plain  that  I  had  gone  too  far.  Cooper 
wrote  about  the  awful  outcry  of  a  horse. 
I  never  heard  it  until  that  night,  when  my 
poor  sorrel  sat  down  on  his  haunches, 
lifted  his  grinning  lips  and  poured  forth 
upon  the  still  air  a  wail  the  like  of  which 
I  hope  never  to  hear  again.  I  couldn't 
cry — I  was  choking.  Well,  the  horse 
185 


THEODORE 

broke  loose  from  me  and  ran  away,  and 
after  shaking  myself,  and  pouring  over 
my  clothes  a  bottle  of  perfumery  which 
I  was  taking  as  a  present  to  a  colored 
fiddler,  I  pronounced  myself  all  right, 
and  set  forward  again.  As  I  went  down 
the  hill  toward  the  dance  hall  the  twang 
of  tuning  fiddles  fell  upon  my  keen  and 
sensitive  ear.  They  were  making  ready, 
and  I  pushed  forward  to  be  in  time  for 
the  first  set  with  Miss  Magnolia.  The 
door  was  opening.  I  could  see  the  flut- 
tering of  soft  drapery.  I  stepped  in, 
with  a  sweeping  bow,  and  a  red-haired 
boy  cried  out,  'Oh,  gee  whiz!'  And  then 
all  was  changed.  There  may  have  been 
a  dance  that  night,  but  I  did  not  partici- 
pate. But  what  have  we  here?" 

It  was  a  great  pile  of  raw  flesh  and 

fresh  bones.     A  mule    train    had    been 

demolished,  and  by  that  bear,  too;  for 

he   had   left   his   tracks    in   the   blood. 

186 


THEODORE 

Pretty  soon  a  professional  mule  driver 
stuck  his  head  from  under  a  rock  and 
asked  us  if  he  were  gone. 

"Come  out,"  says  Theodore.  "I  will 
protect  you." 

The  man  came  out,  looking  pale  and 
worn  with  fright.  He  told  us  that  he 
was  going  along  peacefully  with  his  four 
mules,  when  down  upon  them  all  came 
the  bear,  like  a  storm  of  teeth,  claws  and 
grizzly  hair.  Flight  was  worse  than  use- 
less on  his  part,  so  he  slipped  under  a 
rock.  The  mules  were  less  fortunate. 
They  had  to  stand  the  storm,  and  the 
manner  of  their  standing  it  was  sad  to 
behold. 

"I  am  out  now  looking  for  that  bear," 
says  Theodore. 

The     driver's     face     turned    yellow. 

"Surely,  sir,"  says  he,  "you  don't  know 

what    you    are    looking    for.     I  would 

rather  meet  the  day  of  judgment  than 

187 


THEODORE 

that  fellow.  Did  you  ever  see  him?" 
"I  rode  with  him  quite  a  distance 
once,"  says  Theodore,  "but  there  was  no 
formal  introduction.  Was  this  your 
first  meeting  with  him?" 

"No;  I  met  him  once  before,  or  rather 
he  tried  to  meet  me,  and  would  have 
done  it,  too,  but  I  got  under  a  rock.  He 
sat  down  and  waited  for  me  to  come  out, 
his  size  preventing  him  from  coming  in, 
but  I  stayed  there  until  the  monster's 
appetite  compelled  him  to  go  below  and 
attack  a  wagon  train." 

"Your  language  betrays  the  school," 
says  Theodore,  and  the  driver  smiled 
sadly.  "You  see,  sir,"  says  he,  "a  col- 
lege remnant  of  a  club  of  base  ball  play- 
ers. Once  they  put  me  in  a  wagon  and 
hauled  me  about  the  streets,  with  music 
by  the  band  and  flowers  strewn  by  fair 
maidens,  but  alas!  When  base  ball  died 
my  knowledge  of  chemistry  assured  me 
1 88 


THEODORE 

a  position  at  a  soda  fountain,  near  an  in- 
stitution of  learning,  but  they  accused 
me  of  poisoning  a  professor  of  Greek — " 

"And  so  you  were  compelled  to  re- 
sign." 

"Yes;  when  they  failed  to  prove  it  on 
me  they  demanded  my  resignation.  Af- 
ter that,  of  course,  my  grade  was  lower. 
And  on  my  way  down  I  wrote  a  society 
novel.  One  more  step  remained,  that 
taken,  I  found  myself  driving  mules  in 
the  mountains." 

We  bade  him  farewell  and  pushed  on- 
ward. Night  came  without  further  ad- 
venture, except  that  a  man  shot  at  us  by 
mistake,  clipping  off  a  lock  of  Theodore's 
hair.  "Permit  me  to  apologize  and  to 
keep  this,"  said  the  man,  stooping  down 
and  picking  up  the  short,  wavy  tress. 

"With  my  compliments,"  says  Theo- 
dore, and  again  we  went  onward.  We 
should  have  slept  well  that  night  had  it 
189 


THEODORE 

not  been  for  another  avalanche,  and  this 
disturbed  us  somewhat,  burying  us  to 
the  depth  of  about  eighteen  feet  four 
inches.  We  dug  out  by  sunrise  and,  af- 
ter eating  a  bit  of  frozen  meat,  set  for- 
ward with  rising  spirits.  I  think  it  must 
have  been  about  noon  when,  far  above, 
old  Sir  Billy  stood  looking  down  upon 
us.  The  air  was  clear  and  we  could  see 
him  plainly.  His  tuft  of  red  hair  caught 
the  sun  and  flamed  in  the  light.  At  the 
prison  window  he  had  smiled  at  us,  but 
now  he  wore  a  frowning  countenance. 
Theodore  set  his  teeth.  He  knew,  and 
so  did  I,  that  the  great  contest  was  about 
to  begin. 

"He  will  come  after  us,"  says  our  hero. 
"Even  if  we  should  try  ever  so  hard, 
escape  would  be  impossible.  We  must 
fight,  or  rather  I  must,  for  you  are  to 
have  no  hand  in  the  slaughter.  The  vic- 
tory over  him  must  belong  to  me  alone. 
190 


THEODORE 

I  will  hang  his  skin  behind  my  chair  in 
the  Senate.  Mark,  he  is  coming.  Get 
over  there  behind  that  rock."  I  scram- 
bled to  a  place  of  comparative  safety. 
Unless  Theodore  should  fall,  I  might  re- 
main unnoticed.  On  he  came,  with  his 
great  mouth  open.  Theodore  stood  with 
his  gun  in  his  hand  and  with  a  long  knife 
under  his  arm.  It  was  a  majestic  sight. 
When  the  bear  came  within  one  hundred 
yards  of  his  stand,  Theodore  opened  a 
steady  and  well-directed  fire.  But  the  ter- 
rific onrush  of  the  bear  was  not  impeded. 
Undoubtedly  he  was  proof  against  the 
force  of  lead.  "Agamemnon  of  his  race," 
muttered  Theodore,  with  admiration  in 
his  eye,  but  with  never  a  sign  of  fear. 
How  the  brave  admire  the  brave!  On- 
ward came  the  bear,  cutting  short  the  dis- 
tance with  great  bounds,  spitting  out 
mouthfuls  of  bullets  as  he  leaped.  One 
might  have  thought  that  he  was  immor- 
191 


THEODORE 

tal  as  well  as  inhuman.  And  now  a 
trembling  seized  me.  "Stop  that!"  cries 
Theodore.  "You  will  bring  an  avalanche 
down  upon  us  and  spoil  it  all."  Seek- 
ing to  calm  myself,  I  took  a  pull  from  a 
bottle.  "I  wish  I  had  time  to  take  some 
of  that,  but  I  am  busy  now,"  says  Theo- 
dore, throwing  aside  his  impotent  rifle 
and  grasping  his  knife.  The  bear  made 
a  great  lunge.  I  shut  my  eyes.  And 
then  I  found  myself  unable  to  move.  We 
were  all  covered  by  an  avalanche.  I  dug 
out  as  fast  as  I  could,  and  when  I  reached 
the  surface,  there  stood  Theodore. 

"Where's  that  bear?"  he  demanded  im- 
periously. 

"You  had  him  last,"  says  I. 

"You  may  well  say  that  I  had  him. 
But  he  is  gone.  A  rock  rolled  between 
me  and  him,  and  when  I  dug  over  it  he 
was  not  there.  Is  it  possible  that  at  last 
he  has  turned  coward?  Follow  me!" 
192 


THEODORE 

I  implored  him  for  an  hour's  rest. 
"Rest,"  says  he,  with  contempt  in  his 
voice,  "what  have  you  been  doing?  Come 
with  me  or  I  will  report  your  ineffi- 
ciency." 

This  threat  nerved  me  and  I  followed 
him,  but  during  the  long  hours  we  saw 
no  sign  of  our  enemy,  and  at  last  we  were 
forced  to  return  to  the  camp. 


193 


CHAPTER    XIII 
LIKE   A    FAIRY   TALE 

THE  Rough  Writers  left  off  their 
card  game  to  gather  about  us  and 
ask  for  news,  but  Theodore    as- 
sured them  that  there  was  none.     "Just 
as  we  expected,"  said  the  chief   of   the 
scribes.     "But    no    matter,  we  have  al- 
ready sent  in  our  daily  report." 

That  night,  beside  the  cabin  fire,  Theo- 
dore was  sadder  than  I  had  ever  seen 
him.  He  seemed  more  depressed  than 
on  the  last  night  of  our  imprisonment. 
He  had  received  a  dispatch  urging  him 
to  come  at  once  to  Washington.  "It  is 
almost  impossible  to  acquaint  Mac  with 
194 


THEODORE 

the  gravity  of  this  situation,"  says  he, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  fire.  But  I 
am  going  to  have  that  bear." 

"Do  you  think,  in  view  of  all  that  has 
happened,  that  it  is  quite  possible  for  you 
to  get  him?"  says  I,  dodging  as  he  looked 
up  at  me. 

"If  you  were  other  than  a  detective  I 
should  mutter,  'fool  that  you  are,'  "  says 
he,  and  fell  into  silence. 

An  old  man,  one  of  the  early  pioneers, 
came  in  to  visit  us.,  And  it  was  not  long 
before  he  began  to  talk  of  Sir  Billy.  "I 
have  known  that  bear  going  on  twenty- 
five  years  this  coming  spring,"  says  he, 
looking  back  into  the  past,  "and  nobody 
has  ever  killed  him  yet.  An  old  Gipsy 
woman  used  to  tell  us  that  he  repre- 
sented the  spirits  of  all  the  grizzlies  that 
had  been  slain,  and  that  if  he  were  ever 
killed,  the  remaining  bears  would  not 
fight  but  give  in,  all  of  them.  She  said 
195 


THEODORE 

that  his  death  would  mean  the  extinction 
of  the  race." 

"Then  I  have  been  appointed  to  bring 
this  about,"  says  Theodore. 

"Did  the  old  woman  mention  that 
fact?" 

"No;  she  didn't  say  that  anybody  was 
to  kill  him." 

"Then  she  didn't  know  her  business, 
that's  all  there  is  to  her." 

"She  wasn't  the  only  one  that  seemed 
to  know  all  about  him,"  says  the  old 
man.  "An  old  Indian  woman,  the  grand- 
mother of  Slit  Ear,  the  chief,  told  us 
about  him.  She  said  that  he  was  the 
great  spirit  of  all  bears,  and  that  he  had 
existed  for  thousands  of  years.  She  said 
he  had  slain  all  the  animals  whose  bones 
are  found  in  the  rocks." 

"That's  a  very  pretty  story,"  says 
Theodore.  "Go  on." 

"She  said,"  continued  the  old  man, 
106 


THEODORE 

stroking  his  white  beard,  "that  there  was 
once  a  great  prize  fight  between  this  bear 
and  a  mighty  mastodon." 

"Prize  fight!"  exclaimed  Theodore. 
"Now  do  you  interest  me  much.  Go 
on." 

"The  mountains  were  new  in  those 
days,"  says  the  old  man.  "They  had 
just  raised  up  out  of  the  marsh,  and  it 
was  a  dispute  among  the  animals  as  to 
who  should  own  them.  The  mastodons, 
and  all  the  thing-o-ma-jig  things  with 
long  names  and  tails,  swore  that  the  new 
land  was  theirs  by  right  of  being  there 
first,  but  along  comes  the  grizzly  and 
declared  that  he  was  there  as  soon  as 
anybody,  beating  the  sunrise  by  about 
seven  points.  This  raised  a  great  laugh 
among  the  animals  sunning  themselves 
on  the  rocks,  so  the  fight  was  arranged. 
There  was  a  mighty  crowd  on  the  day  of 
battle.  The  mastodon  came  up,  laugh- 
197 


THEODORE 

ing  to  himself,  and  then  along  came  the 
grizzly,  looking  pleased  but  modest. 
The  fight  began  about  high  noon  and 
lasted  till  nearly  sunset.  The  mastodon, 
every  one  allowed,  bore  himself  bravely, 
but  the  bear  was  too  much  for  him. 
There  was  a  great  wailing  in  the  moun- 
tains that  night,  for  all  the  mastodons 
and  dinosaurs  and  lizard  things  knew 
that  their  day  was  past.  And  so  it  was, 
for  on  the  following  morning  the  great 
bear  went  out  and  slew  the  whole  kit  of 
them.  This  old  woman  said  that  these 
truths  were  revealed  to  her,  and  she  was 
willing  to<  swear  to  them  before  a  justice 
of  the  peace.  And  now  what  do  you 
think?" 

"I  think  that  I  am  more  than  ever  de- 
termined to  kill  him,"  says  Theodore. 
"For  look,"  says  he,  "if  it  hadn't  been 
for  him,  we  would  have  had  great  game 
in  the  Rockies." 

198 


THEODORE 

I  went  to  sleep,  leaving  Theodore  and 
the  old  pioneer  still  talking,  and  when  I 
awoke  the  sun  was  shining.  Theodore 
was  already  up  and  dressed.  "This  day 
shall  see  the  finish  of  it  all,"  says  he. 
"Get  what  provisions  you  can,  for  I  am 
not  coming  back  till  this  prolonged  con- 
test is  at  an  end."  I  saw  by  his  counte- 
nance that  he  meant  what  he  said, 
and  accordingly  I  cooked  eight  days' 
rations. 

"And  there  is  something  else  to  be  at- 
tended to,"  said  Theodore.  "We  must 
take  mules  enough  to  haul  him  in." 

"You  don't  appear  to  have  any  doubt 
as  to  the  result,"  says  I,  stuffing  bread 
into  a  bag. 

"None  in  the  least.  The  die  is  finally 
cast.  ,My  only  fear  is  that  he  may  evade 
me.  But  no,  he  has  confidence.  He  is 
game.  He  must  know  that  his  time  is 
bound  to  come,  and  I  think  he  would 
199 


THEODORE 

rather  yield  his  spirit  to  me  than  to  any 
one  else." 

The  mules  must  have  had  an  inkling 
of  what  we  wanted  with  them,  for  they 
kicked  and  bit  at  each  other  and  at  me 
as  they  were  led  forth.  A  short  distance 
from  the  camp  we  met  the  soda-water 
scholar  and  invited  him  to  go  along  to 
conduct  the  mule  train,  but  he  shook  his 
head  sadly  and  refused.  "Good-bye,"  he 
says  to  me.  "I  may  never  see  you 
again."  I  felt  somewhat  nettled  at  his 
singling  me  out,  but  said  nothing,  only 
that  I  was  pleased  to  bid  him  farewell. 
And  now  once  more,  and  for  the  last 
time,  I  believed,  we  were  on  the  march 
against  Sir  Billy.  I  did  not  believe  that 
Theodore  could  kill  him,  but  I  believed 
that  this  last  effort  would  discourage  all 
future  attempts.  Everything  was  pro- 
pitious except  the  mules.  They  hung 
back,  and  bit  at  one  another  spitefully. 

200 


THEODORE 

But  Theodore  was  patient.  There  was 
something  sublime  in  his  manner.  Was 
he  going  to  slay  the  ancient  master  of 
the  mountains?  And  when  the  master 
were  slain,  would  the  mountains  sink 
again — down  into  a  marsh?  These  were 
things  for  Theodore  to  consider,  and  I 
suggested  as  much;  but,  pointing  toward 
the  mountain  top,  he  said,  "Onward!" 


201 


CHAPTER    XIV 
THE    BATTLE    ROYAL 

WE  MET  a  man  who  came  tum- 
bling down  the  trail,  and  he  re- 
ported that  the  bear  was  com- 
ing. Instantly  the  mules  wheeled  about 
and  struck  out  for  the  camp.  I  would 
have  followed  them,  but  Theodore  inti- 
mated that  doubtless  I  should  be  required 
as  referee.  Further  on  a  pack  of  wolves 
swept  past  us,  with  their  ears  lying  back 
flat.  An  eagle,  appreciating  their  dan- 
ger and  their  fright,  screamed,  mock- 
ingly, high  in  the  air  above  them.  The 
sweeping  wolves  paid  no  attention  to  us. 
They  did  not  even  make  an  effort  to  bear 

202 


THEODORE 

off  to  the  right  or  the  left,  but  so  pressed 
were  they  for  time  that  one  of  them  ran 
between  Theodore's  legs.  This  was  ex- 
citement of  a  high  order,  but  as  yet  we 
had  seen  nothing  of  the  bear.  We  knew, 
however,  by  the  frightened  man  and  the 
terror-stricken  wolves,  that  he  was  com- 
ing. 

"He  has  nerved  himself  for  his  final 
and,  I  hope,  his  last  effort,"  says  Theo- 
dore, as  I  exerted  myself  to  keep  pace 
with  him.  "I  am  glad  the  sun  is  shin- 
ing, and  I  hope  it  won't  go  down  till  vic- 
tory is  assured — to  one  or  the  other,"  he 
continued,  after  a  short  pause.  Then  he 
halted  and  said :  "I  will  choose  this  level 
place  for  a  battle  ground.  No  avalanche 
can  save  him  here." 

I    looked    about    me    as    Theodore 

halted.    There  was  but  one  rock  within 

reach,  and  our  hero  commanded  me  to 

climb  upon  it,  out  of  harm's  way.    And 

203 


THEODORE 

this  I  proceeded  to  do  without  argument, 
and  with  no  hesitation.  Looking  far 
ahead,  I  saw  what  seemed  to  be  a  flurry 
of  snow.  But  it  was  not — it  was  the 
bear,  surrounded  by  mists  which  his  own 
hot  breath  created.  I  looked  at  Theo- 
dore and  saw  him  brace  himself.  He  had 
not  brought  his  useless  rifle,  but  he  had 
a  knife  that  looked  like  an  ancient  Roman 
sword.  "I  shall  never  have  the  oppor- 
tunity to  vote  for  you  again,"  I  mused. 
Why  do  great  men  persist  in  throwing 
themselves  into  the  red  jaws  of  fate?  On 
came  the  bear,  looking  neither  to  the 
right  nor  to  the  left.  And  now  his 
movements  were  not  swift  and  bounding, 
but  rather  slow  and  majestic.  I  fancied 
that  his  mind  flew  back  to  dwell  upon 
that  pre-historic  time  when  he  slew  the 
mastodon.  I  had  my  gun  beside  me, 
and  believing  that  it  was  my  duty  as  a  de- 
tective to  render  all  possible  assistance, 
204 


THEODORE 

I  took  good  aim  at  his  head  and  fired. 
He  caught  the  bullet  in  his  mouth,  spat 
it  out,  looked  at  me  with  contempt,  and 
came  right  on  as  before,  with  measured 
tread. 

"Put  down  that  pop  and  cease  meddling 
in  affairs  that  don't  concern  you,"  says 
Theodore,  bracing  himself  anew  and  giv- 
ing me  a  fine  exhibition  of  the  quiet  and 
well-contained  play  of  his  muscles.  By 
this  time  the  bear  was  within  fifty  yards 
of  him.  I  wondered  if  Theodore's  great 
spirit  would  not  faint  at  the  last  mo- 
ment. But  it  did  not.  With  head  bent 
slightly  forward,  and  with  one  foot  well 
braced  behind,  he  nerved  himself  for  the 
shock.  When  within  about  six  feet  of 
him,  the  bear  reared  to  the  full  of  his 
enormous  height  and  sprang  forward  to 
seize  Theodore  in  his  arms.  And  he  suc- 
ceeded, to  my  surprise,  for  I  had  ex- 
pected Theodore  to  duck.  But  he  did 
205 


THEODORE 

not.  He  let  the  bear  grab  him.  He 
doubtless  relied  on  the  strength  of  his 
buckskin  garments.  Ah,  he  did  not 
count  amiss.  And  now  came  a  wrestle 
the  like  of  which  has  not  been  seen  on 
this  continent.  The  bear  pinned  down 
Theodore's  right  arm,  so  that  he  had  no 
chance  to  use  his  knife.  The  first  fall 
I  am  compelled  to  award  to  the  bear. 
But  Theodore  was  up  in  a  moment, 
though  he  had  lost  his  knife — the  bear 
was  trampling  it  under  his  feet.  They 
broke  loose  and,  for  a  few  moments, 
squared  themselves  and  boxed,  and  such 
boxing!  ;Where  could  a  bear  have  re- 
ceived such  training?  One  would  have 
thought  that  he  was  from  Harvard. 
Choosing  his  time  Theodore  gave  him  a 
punch  in  the  jaw  and  downed  him,  but 
he  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant.  Then 
they  closed  again,  and  this  time  Theodore 
threw  him,  but  it  was  in  the  nature  of  a 
206 


HE  LET  THE  BEAR 

GRAB  HIM.      Page  ao6 


THEODORE 

foul,  for  he  fell  on  his  side.  Theodore 
strove  to  turn  him  over  and  press  his 
shoulders  against  the  ground,  but  he 
arose  with  his  antagonist  and  at  it  again 
they  went,  more  furiously  than  before. 
And  now  it  was  Theodore's  turn  to  fall, 
and  it  was  a  hard  one.  I  was  mortally 
afraid  that  he  would  not  get  up  in  time, 
but  he  did,  his  vigor  seeming  in  no  wise 
impaired.  But  this  great  strain  could  not 
long  be  borne.  Theodore  knew  his  dan- 
ger— he  knew  that  the  bear  would  wear 
him  out  at  last,  so  now  his  efforts  were 
directed  toward  the  recovery  of  his  knife. 
The  bear's  activity  increased  with  each 
moment  of  the  fray,  and  the  knife  had 
been  kicked  some  distance  away.  Five 
times  did  Theodore  lunge  for  it,  but  the 
bear  grabbed  him  each  time  and  hurled 
him  back.  Would  he  never  get  it?  Ah, 
with  a  mighty  bound  he  reached  the 
knife,  seized  it — plunged  it  into  the  bear, 
207 


THEODORE 

and  turned  it  round.  There  came  a 
gurgling  noise  and  a  great  spurt  of  black 
blood,  but  the  bear  was  not  vanquished. 
Indeed,  he  appeared  to  fight  with  added 
fury.  Theodore  seized  another  oppor- 
tunity and  let  him  have  the  knife  be- 
tween the  shoulders,  but  it  struck  a  lump 
of  lead  and  did  no  harm.  They  closed 
again  and  waltzed  as  if  to  music.  I 
noted  with  delight  that  the  bear  was  los- 
ing strength  in  consequence  of  his  flow 
of  blood.  Suddenly  he  stopped  to  cough, 
and  Theodore  stabbed  him  in  the  breast. 
He  reeled,  and  again  he  got  it,  in  the 
throat.  Now  he  was  on  his  haunches, 
with  his  head  swaying.  He  strove  to  get 
up,  but  Theodore  was  too  alert  for  him. 
Time  after  time  the  knife  went  home  and 
came  out  dripping.  And  then  all  the  air 
was  filled  with  a  great  groan,  as  if  low 
thunder  were  poured  from  a  heavy  cloud 
— there  was  a  gasp  and  a  gurgle,  and  all 
208 


THEODORE 

was  over.  I  expected  Theodore  to  leap 
upon  his  dead  foe  and  wave  his  hat,  but 
he  did  not.  He  looked  up  at  me  and 
says,  "Would  you  mind  fetching  those 
mules?" 

I  went  after  the  mules,  and  when  we 
made  them  understand  that  the  bear  was 
dead,  they  approached  willingly.  It  took 
four  of  them  to  drag  the  bear,  and  all  the 
way  down  the  mountain  we  saw  other 
grizzlies,  but  they  ran  away  like  rabbits. 

Counting  the  lead,  and  this  was  fair  as 
it  had  become  a  part  of  him,  the  bear 
weighed  nearly  four  thousand  pounds. 
It  took  us  all,  including  the  Rough  Writ- 
ers, until  daylight  to  skin  him,  and  when 
the  task  was  done,  Theodore  wrapped 
himself  in  the  hide  and  lay  down  to  peace- 
ful dreams.  His  great  work  was  accom- 
plished. The  Rocky  Mountains  were 
now  open  to  peaceful  pursuits.  I  went 
out  and  looked  up  at  the  stars,  and  upon 
209 


THEODORE 

the  towering  mountain  peaks,  wonder- 
ing if  these  great  masses,  the  admiration 
of  the  world,  would  sink  back  into  the 
marsh. 


210 


„  inc-iurri  *•- 


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